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Miscellaneous  #      jy,^p  ^  g  ^g^^ 


WORKS. 


BY  ELIPHALET  NOTT,  D.  Dj 

♦resident    of    VNtOIT    COLLEGE, 


/r/riT  ^A"  APPENDIK, 


>aajai90(f^^(^0aa^'99^ 


SCHEJ^ECTADY  2 


PUBLISHED  £/   W'Jtf.  ^.  M'CART'EE,   JBOOKSStUSKg 


RYER    SCHERKEBHORN,    PRINTER^ 


ADVERTISEMENT. 

1  HIS  volume  is  submitted  to  the  public 
without  any  agency  or  interest  whatever  on  the  pai^t 
of  the  author.  The  repeated  calls  for  the  single 
sermons  and  addresses,  which  had  become  scarce, 
although  some  of  them  had  undergone  several  edi- 
tions, induced  the  editor  to  collect  and  publish  them 
in  the  present  form ;  and  it  is  hoped  this  circum- 
stance will  place  the  Author  beyond  the  imputation 
©f  any  errors  that  may  occur  in  the  work. 


Dl-STRICT  OF  NEW-YORK,  ss, 

BE  IT  REMEMBERED,  that  on  the  twenty-eight  day  of  April,  in 
the  thirty-fourth  year  of  the  Independence  of  the  United  States  of 
AmerLca,  Ryer  Schermerhorn,  oi  the  said  district,  hath  depositecj 
in  this  office  the  title  of  a  book,  the  righ*  whereof  he  claims  as  proprie- 
tor, in  the  words  following,  to  -wit  ; 

VISCELLANEOUS    WORKS.        BY    ELIPHAI.ET    NOTT,    D.    D.    PRESI- 
DENT OF    DUION    COLLEGE.       WITH    AN    APPENDIX. 

In  conformity  to  th§  act  of  the  Gongrress  of  the  United  States,  en- 
titled "  An  act  for  the  encouragement  of  learning,  by  securing  the 
copies  of  maps,  charts  and  books  to  the  authors  and  proprietors  of  such 
copies,  uuri-ng  the  limes  therein  mentioned  ;"  and  also  to  an  act  enti- 
tled "  An  act  supplementary  to  an  act,  entitled  an  act  for  the  encourage- 
ment, of  learning  by  securing  the  copies  of  maps,  charts  and  books,  to 
ihe  authors  and  proprietors  of  such  copies  during  the  times  therein  men- 
ijfoned,  and  extending  the  benefits  thereof  to  the  arts  of  deiiigning,  en^ 
graying  arid  ettWng  hi^storical  and  oilier  prints." 
^  CHAR.  CLINTON, 

Cleri  of  tlce  Distriet  ^f  Nevi-Tor/; 


PREFACE 


1  O  a  mind  intent  upon  a  sober  estima- 
tion of  personal  merit,  two  sorts  of  relations  naturally 
offer  themselves  for  consideration.  The  one  subsist- 
ing between  the  Creator  and  his  creatures,  is  perma- 
nent; the  other,  confined  to  these  last,  is  mutable. — 
Should  we  adopt  the  choice  of  piety  in  this  akerna- 
feve,  we  might,  perhaps,  be  led  to  conjecture,  not  on- 
ly that  the  souls  of  all  men  have  the  same  essential 
parts,  but  that  these  parts  were  originally  the  same 
also  in  degree  ;  and  that  the  immense  variety  of  ta- 
lent, sentiment  and  character,  existing  in  the  world, 
owes  its  being  wholly  to  a  correspondent  variety  in  the 
material  constitutions  of  its  subjects.  If  such  be, 
indeed,  the  fact ;  if  the  philosopher  and  the  fool  may 
ascribe  their  difference  to  a  transient  cause  ;  if  New- 
ton's mind  was  clearer  than  others  only  because,  it 
was  less  obstructed  in  its  operations  :  what  exalted 
notions  may  we  not  indulge  of  that  intellectual  chawgc 
which  awaits  an  entire  disenthralment ;  what  admi- 
ration of  the  powers  that  even  the  meanest  spirit  of 
earth  will  display  when  restored  by  death  to  the  per- 
fect liberties  of  siiriple,  unincumbered  beigg  ?     Hovr' 


VI 


then,  reverting  to  the  present  state,  shall  we  distm-- 
guisli  the  grades  of  human  excellence  ?  or  how  dis- 
cover any  excellence  at  all  ?  Verily  the  expiring 
mani.ac,  to  whose  final  groan  God  answers  "  Live  !" 
shall  supplicate  the  pity  of  his  Father  on  the  poor  wis- 
dom of  this  world. 

But  we  must  speak  in  the  language  of  common 
remark.  We  must  leave  this  humbling,  unfrequented 
side  of  the  alternative,  and  pass  over  to  the  wilderness 
pf  particular  relations,  where  myriads  resort,  where 
temporal  honors  have  a  name,  and  where  all  the 
passions  of  our  nature  hunt  their  prey.  Yet  we  come 
not  hither  to  challenge  those  honors  for  our  author. 
They  cannot  be  totally  withheld.  Honored  he  must 
be,  till  genius  and  eloquence  shall  be  contemned. 
Nor  can  the  disingenuity  of  his  censors  affect  the  ul- 
timate reputation  of  the  individual,  any  farther  than 
they  can  depreciate  the  absolute  value  of  the  qualities 
he  possesses.  He  is  therefore  secure.  But  the  oc- 
casion imposes  a  duty  which  this  reflection  alone  does 
not  satisfy. 

It  has  been  said,  that  splendid  talents  are  seldom 
nice  about  exactness  of  expression.  Reason,  no  less 
than  experience,  confirms  the  remark.  Besides,  what 
is  to  be  the  criterion  of  correct  style  ?  The  usages 
of  approved  writers  ?  These  are  at  variance  both  with 
one  another  and  themselves.  The  rules  of  philolo- 
gers  ?  We  have  also  grammarian  versus  grammarian. 
A  proper  test  is,  indeed,  very  desirable.  By  the  best 
we  have,  which  is  the  judgment  of  polite  scholars,  not 
the  caprice  of  critics,  the  compositions  here  oficrcd,  a 


vn 


second  time,  to  the  public,  will,  it  is  thought,  be  less 
liable  to  exception,  for  a  few  trifling  marks  of  inadver- 
tency that  may  possibly  be  found,  than  to  admiration 
for  the  many  exquisite  beauties  which  pervade  them, 
and  their  general  superiority  of  style  over  the  ordinary 
effusions  of  the  desk. 

But,  it  is  said,  they  are  addressed  to  the  passions. 
In  what  manner  ?  Is  it  by  juggling  and  incantatisDu  ? 
No:  it  is  by  the  plain  dealing  of  reason  and  Revelation. 
For  what  purpose  ?  Is  it  to  excite  civil  commotion  ? 
No  :  it  is  to  feed  the  poor,  to  gospelize  the  savage, 
to  make  crime  odious  and  avert  the  horrors  of  the 
second  death.  With  such  views  can  a  Christian  mind 
be  calm  ?  Again  it  is  said,  the  understanding  should 
be  first  convinced.  It  is  already  so.  The  dut}^  of 
man  is  plain.  God  has  written  it  in  capitals.  He 
that  runs  may  read.  So  that  the  business  of  an 
apostle  that  is  uninspired,  is,  not  to  teach  new  doc- 
trines, but  to  deckrc  and  enforce  the  old.  Alas,  though 
many  sermons  are  printed,  few,  after  they  have  lost 
the  little  animation  of  the  personal  delivery,  are  cal- 
c^ilated  to  produce  any  effect.  We  mean  no  dis- 
paragement. They  are  pious,  and  therefore  respccta- 
ble.  We  only  mean  that  the  fire  of  religion  should 
emit  a  brighter  flame.  The  heart  of  a  preacher  should 
swell  and  burst  in  his  discourse.  The  wretches  of 
the  curse  should  see  his  blood. 

President  Not T  does,  indeed,  apply  Ivmself  assi- 
duously to  tlie  feelings  of  his  hearers'.  Me  inclines  to 
the  character  of  the  French  divines.  Flis  object  and 
talent  are  at  once  persuasion.  He  has  all  the  benefit  of 


\ni 


©rdcr  without  Its  foriviality.  Around  his  arg'umenj^ 
which  is  well  adjusted,  he  scatters  the  fairest  flowers  of 
rhetoric,  to  entice  and  fix  the  attention.  He  excels  most 
in  the  descriptive,  the  pathetic,  and  the  sublime  ;  which 
indeed,  are  nearly  allied,  and  which  he  sometimes 
unites  with  resistless  eflfect.  His  sense  is  always  full 
and  digniiied.  He  seldom  sinks,  never  falls  ;  and 
does  every  thing  by  design.  Would  to  heaven  there 
Avere  thousands  s«ch  in  the  vineyard  of  Christ !  As  far 
as  we  are  able  t«o  judge,  he  is  decidedly  first  on  the  cat- 
alogue of  pulpit  orators  in  this  countrj\  We  subrait 
the  question  to  the  public  and  posterity. 


A 

DISCOURSE 

DELIVERED    IN    THE 

PRESBYTERIAN  CHURCH,- 

IN  ALBANY, 

mjt  5fOUtt&  of  f  Ulp,  1801. 

AT     THE 

CELEBRATION  of  the  TWENTY-FIFTH 

ANNIVERSARY 

OF 

AMERICAN  INDEPENDENCE. 

BY 

ELIPHALET  NOTT,  A.  M. 


PROVIDENCE  OF  GOD, 


TOWARDS 


AMERICAN  ISRAEL, 


1  HE  celebration  of  events,  which  have  been 
replete  with  consequences  beneficial  to  mankind,  has 
long  been  practised  among  the  nations  of  the  world. 
A  sacred  festival,  annually  solemnized,  kept  alive  in 
Israel  the  recollection  of  their  deliverance  from  Egyp- 
tian thraldom,  and  an  altar  erected  upon  the  banks  of 
Jordan  perpetuated  the  remembrance  of  the  joyful 
day,  when  passing  that  river,  tliey  entered  in  triumph 
the  promised  land. 

Hence  probably  arose  the  commemorating  statues, 
festivals  and  anniversaries  of  the  east.  But  however 
this  may  be,  such  memorials  are  doubtless  rational, 
when  instituted  to  preserve  unanimity  in  a  nation, 
and  hand  down  the  knowledge  of  important  eras  in 
its  history. 


12 

impressed  with  the  truth  of  this  sentiment,  and  led 
by  the  impulse  of  their  own  feelings,  the  citizens  of 
America  celebrate  the  day  that  gave  birth  to  their  in- 
dependence. 

At  the  recollection  of  this  event,  the  pulse  of  joy 
beats  high  in  a  thousand  hearts,  and  the  song  of  joy 
sounds  loud  from  a  thousand  tongues. 

The  hoary  veteran  is  now  ruminating  the  toils  he 
has  endured,  and  the  battles  he  has  fought  for  his 
country  ;  and  the  matron  of  seventy-six  is  rehearsing 
the  long  tale  of  American  independence. 

The  return  of  this  auspicious  day  brings  back  the 
scenes  and  revives  the  emotions  of  former  times. 

Influenced  by  one  common  ardor,  the  patriots  of 
America  are  assembling  on  the  east  and  on  the 
west,  on  the  north  and  on  the  south,  to  review  the 
perils  and  hardships  through  which  they  have  strug-. 
gled,  and  to  celebrate  the  happiness  and  glory  to 
which  they  have  attained. 

Called  to  lead  your  meditations  on  an  occasion  like 
the  present,  I  should  do  violence  to  my  own  feelings, 
as  well  as  insult  the  dignity  of  a  Christian  assembly, 
should  I  attempt  to  act  the  partisan^  and  thus  lead  you 
into  the  uncertain  field  of  political  discussion. 

So  obvious  is  the  design  of  this  anniversary,  that 
methinks  my  audience  must  have  already  anticipated 
me  in  the  choice  of  my  subject,  and  assembled  with 
minds  prepared  to  review  the  wonders  which  God 
hath  wrought  for  our  fathers  and  for  us  : 


13 

With  a  view  to  this,  I  have  chosen  for  my  text  the 

8th  verse  of  the  iii  chapter  of  exodus. 

**  A7id  lam  come  dowji  to  deliver  them  out  of  the  hand 
of  the  Egyptians^  and  to  brins:  them  up  out  of  that 
land,  unto  a  good  land  and  a  large  ;  unto  a  land  Ji Giv- 
ing with  milk  and  honey. ^'' 

These  words  were  spoken  to  Moses,  at  Horeb, 
out  of  the  midst  of  the  burning  bush  ;  and  they  con- 
tain a  declaration  of  the  designs  of  Providence  re- 
lative to  his  suffering  people,  then  in  Egypt,  and  a 
gracious  promise  of  speedy  deliverance.  They  ad- 
mit, however,  of  an  application  to  American  Zion. 
For  "  all  these  things  happened  unto  them  for  ensam- 
ples  ;  and  they  are  written  for  our  admonition,  upon 
whom  the  ends  of  the  world  are  come." 

Our  deliverance  from  foreign  domination  may  be 
fiot  inaptly  compared  to  the  deliverance  of  Israel  from 
Egyptian  bondage — In  the  view  of  which,  we  may 
reiterate  the  sentiment  of  the  text  and  say,  surely  the 
Lord  hath  been  donjon,  and  delivered  us  cut  of  the  hand 
of  the  Egyptians  andbro^t  us  up  out  of  that  land,  into  a 
good  land  and  a  large  ;  iiito  a  land  f  owing  with  milk 
and  honey. 

See  thus,  my  hearers,  the  subjects  and  scope  of 
the  present  discourse,  subjects  interesting  to  every 
American  and  correspondent  to  the  purposes  for 
which  we  are  assembled. 

In  retracing  the  history  of  our  fathers,  from  the 
first  settlement  of  our  country  down  to  the  revolu- 


14 


tion,  we  find  little  else  but  details  of  hardship  and  suf- 
fering. 

Few  in  number,  and  scattered  over  an  immense 
territory,  the  greatest  part  of  \\hich  was  a  howling 
wilderness,  swarming  with  inhospitable  savages,  their 
wants,  their  perils  and  their  enemies  were  many. 

United  to  a  foreign  nation,  they  were  necessarily 
entangled  in  her  politics,  disturbed  by  her  broils, 
hated  by  her  enemies  and  distressed  by  her  wars. 

Goshen  soon  became  an  object  of  contention..... 
France  coveted  the  place  assigned  Jbr  Joseph's  bre- 
thren to  feed  their  flocks.  For  more  than  half  a 
century  she  strove  to  obtain  it.  On  the  west  she 
encompassed  us  with  a  chain  of  fortresses,  and  on 
the  east  our  shores  lay  defenceless  to  her  carnage. 
Nothing  less  was  contemplated  than  the  complete 
extirpation  of  the  Protestants  in  America,  and  the 
establishment  of  the  spiritual  jurisdiction  of  the  Ro- 
man see. 

To  accomplish  the  more  ciFectually  this  nefarious 
purpose,  she  excited  the  jealousy  of  the  natives 
against  us,  put  into  the  hand  of  their  warriors  th© 
instruments  of  death,  designated  the  families  to  be 
butchered,  and  even  rewarded  their  cruelty,  when 
they  had  butchered  them. 

Thus  hunted  down  on  the  one  hand,  by  hordes 
of  barbarous  savages,  and  pressed  on  the  other  by 
the  more  barbarous  troops  of  a  sanguinary  despot, 
i'very  7nan\^  heart  fainted^  and  every  mans  hands 
became  weak. 


15 

t)anger  encircled  every  dwelling,  and  death  lurked 
in  every  path  !  Neither  age  nor  sex  furnished  the 
least  protection.  The  groans  of  the  widow  sadly 
echoed  from  the  cottage,  and  the  sighs  of  the  infant 
floated  on  the  breeze.  The  labourer  was  mur- 
dered in  the  field,  the  slumberer  was  massacred  on 
his  pillow,  and  the  worsliipper  was  slain  at  the  Altar 
of  his  God, 

These  calamities,  tho'  great,  were  but  the  begin- 
ning of  sorrow.  Hitherto  wc  had  received  some  pro- 
tection from  our  parent  country. 

George  the  second  was  a  father  to  his  colonies. 
How  different  the  character  of  his  successor  !  May 
we  not  say,  in  the  language  of  scripture,  that  now 
*'  there  arose  a  new  kin^  in  Egypt  that  knew  not  Jo- 
seph.'^ 

After  the  accession  of  George  the  third  to  the: 
throne,  Great-Britain  adopted  a  policy  towards  Ame- 
rica cruel  and  oppressive-^A  policy  which,  had  it 
been  submitted  to,  must  have  enslaved  these  colo- 
nies, and  put  an  end  to  all  their  chartered  privileges. 

The  colonists  were  not  insensible  of  this  Jell  de- 
sign. They  saw  with  indignation  the  first  encroach- 
ment on  their  liberties.  The  alarm  was  instantly 
sounded.  Every  citizen  awoke  to  a  sense  of  the  com- 
mon danger,  and  measures  were  immediately  adopted 
to  ward  off  the  impending  blow. 

Desirous  of  peace,  and  loyal  to  the  British 
crown,  they  first  addressed  his  majesty  in  languag-^; 
of  humble  petitioners. 


it) 

But  tliclr  petitions,  like  the  groanings  of  Israel  in 
Egypt,  only  provoked  new  grievances  and  drew 
down  heavier  burdens  upon  them.  One  exorbitant 
claim  was  followed  by  another.  A  more  numerous 
herd  of  task-masters  were  appointed  to  superintend 
our  labours,  tax  our  industry,  and  fleece  us  of  GUI' 
earnings. 


& 


Despairing  of  redress  in  this  way,  and  findin 
that  insult  was  only  added  to  injury,  and  injury  to 
insult,  the  colonists  altered  the  tone  of  their  address 
and  assumed  the  attitude  of  bold  and  manly  resist- 
ance. This,  however,  instead  of  discouraging,  only 
strengthened  Britain  in  her  resolution  to  enslave  her 
colonies.  To  this  object  all  her  measures  were 
directed,  till  at  length  they  terminated  in  open  war. 

The  first  blood  was  shed  at  Lexington.  Never 
did  an  event  give  a  more  general  shock.  A  sudden 
thrill  passed  through  the  heart  of  every  American .- 
In  what  manner  this  contest  was  to  be  decided  re- 
mained no  longer  uncertain.  Then  the  brave  New- 
Englanders,  while  the  blood  streamed  from  the 
wounds  of  their  slaughtered  brethren,  grasped  every 
man  his  anns  and  flew  to  their  relief.  Then  the  patriots 
of  America  unsheathed  their  swords,  and  appealing 
to  Heaven  for  the  justice  of  their  cause,  pledged 
themselves  to  each  other  by  every  thing  dear  and 
sacred,  never  to  sheathe  them  till  their  country's 
wrongs  were  redressed,  and  her  violated  rights  restor- 
ed. Thus  the  veins  which  Britain  opened,  nerved 
the  arm  of  resistance,  and  qucikened  the  pulse  of  in- 
dependence ;  and  the  Jirst  blood,  sl^.e  drew  from  the 


17 

hearts  of  freemen  proved  the  powerful  cement  of  an 
extensive  and  indissoluble  union. 

Forced  into  war,  vast  were  the  difficulties  these  in- 
fant colonies  had  to  encounter  ;  hard  and  of  long  du- 
ration were  their  struggles  of  liberty.  The  host  of 
our  enemies  was  numerous,  their  resources  great ; 
they  were  skilled  in  military  discipline,  distinguished 
for  prowess,  and  led  by  experienced  generals.  To 
this  mighty  phalanx  we  were  able  to  oppose  only  a 
rustic  band  collected  on  the  ^pur  of  the  occasion  from 
the  veomanry  of  our  country,  destitute  of  arms  and 
ammunition,  unaccustomed  to  war  and  "  havinar  no 
resources  but  their  valour,  and  no  general  but  their 
God." 

During  the  first  years  of  this  unequal  contest,  how- 
gloomy  and  ill-boding  was  the  aspect  of  our  aifairs  ! 
Our  embarrassments  were  numerous  ;  our  sufferings 
immense.  Our  cities  were  burnt  or  plundered,  our 
fields  covered  with  dead  bodies,  and  our  valleys 
soaked  in  blood.  Of  the  flower  of  our  country  many 
fell  in  battle,  many  perished  in  prison-ships,  and 
many  became  the  victims  of  desolating  pestilence^ 
Our  frontiers  lay  7iaked  to  the  stroke  of  the  toma- 
hawk, and  our  sea -ports,  were  open  to  the  thunder  of 
British  cannon.  Surrounded  by  enemies,  alarm  suc- 
ceeded to  alarm,  and  disaster  to  disaster.  In  the 
mean  time  a  paper  currency,  daily  depreciating  in  its 
value,  excited  mutual  distrust,  suspended  in  a  great 
measure  private  intercourse,  and  even  palsied  the 
very  energies  of  government.  At  this  awful  crisis  I 
when  solicitude  sat  on  every  countenance,  and  anxie- 

3 


IS 

ty  wrung  every  heart  ;  when  America,  like  Israel 
upon  the  brifik  of  the  sea,  stood  trembling,  unable  to 
withstand,  and  having  no  refuge  from  her  enemies  ; 
then  the  Almighty  appeared  for  the  deliverance  of  his 
suffering  people.  The  arm  of  Omnipotence  stretched 
down  from  heaven,  smote  the  wave  that  was  over- 
whelming us  :  it  divided  ;  and  we  passed  through 
into  a  new  world,  from  which  our  feet  were  to  return 
no  more  into  the  land  of  oppression. 

Now  commenced  a  new  era  in  the  history  of  Ame- 
rica.    Her  independence  was  acknowledged  by  Bri- 
tain ;  her  triumphs  celebrated  through  tne  world. 
This  event,  tho'  it  gave  a  new  aspect  to  our  affairs, 
did  not  put  an  end  to  our  trials  or  embarrassments. 
The  war  left  us  exhausted  by  exertion ^  and  oppressed 
with  debt.     The  insufficiency  of  the  old  confedera- 
tion, *'  formed  in  moments  of  political  enthusiasm, 
whose  bonds  were  a  parchment,   and  whose  com- 
mands a  request,"*  now  became  maivifest.     A  dark 
cloud  a^ain  overspread  the  horizon  of  liberty,  and 
every  thing  boded  evil.     Discontent  under  heavy 
taxation    prevailed    among    individuals.     One  state 
was  distracted  by  insurrection,  and  each  pursued  a 
policy  peculiar  to  itself.     On  every  side  were  jaring 
interests  and  clashing  claims.     The  energies  of  gov- 
ernment, already/  wo  feeble ,  were  evidently  relaxing, 
the  bonds  of  the  union  bursting  assunder  and  the 
whole  system  tending  to  dissolution.     But  he  who 
had  led  us  through  the  sea  did  not  forsake  us  in  the 
wilderness.     The  pillar  of  divine  glory  still  rested  07i 

»  Dr.  D  wight's  SermoR, 


19 

Ms  fahemacle,  and  the  finger  of  Providence  again 
pointed  out  the  way  of  safety.  The  patriots  of  our 
country  once  more  assembled,  when,  guided  in  their 
counsels  by  Avisdom  from  above,  they  originated  and 
matured  the  American  Constitution,  that  magnum 
^pttSy  which  hath  proved  a  rock  of  safety.  On  which 
as  yet  unshaken  stands  the  temple  of  our  liberties. 

The  framing  and  adoption  of  the  constitution  w^ere 
events,  than  which  nothing  could  be  more  happy  in 
Its  consequences  to  us — to  man  ;  nor  any  thing  more 
expressive  of  the  benevolence  of  Heaven  and  the  su- 
perintending Providence  of  God.  This  was  the  con- 
summation of  our  wishes  ;  this  the  answer  of  our 
prayers  ;  this  put  us  in  a  situation  to  maintain  our  in- 
dependence and  defend  our  liberties. 

Thus  have  %ve  been  borne  as  on  eagles'*  winrs 
Mnd  sheltered  as  in  the  holloiv  of  the  Almighty^s 
htmd. 

From  this  land  of  bondage,  from  which  you  have 
escaped  ;  this  sea  of  affliction,  through  which  you 
have  waded  ;  this  gloomy  desart,  where  once  you 
wandered,    and    where  many   of  your  fathers  and 

brethren  perished  turn  your  eyes to  fields    of 

plenty  and  a  land  of  peace.  For  the  Lord  came 
down  and  delivered  us  up  to  a  good  land,  and  a 
large  ;  a  land  similar  to  that  which  he  gave  to  his 
people  of  old. 

The  Canaan  which  the  Israelites  inherited  was 
distinguished  for  the  healthfulness  of  its  climate, 
tlie  pleasantness  of  its  situation  and  the  fertility  of 


20 

its  soil.  It  was  a  goodly  land,  a  land  fiowing  -with 
milk  afid  honey.  Such  also  is  the  land  which  God 
hath  given  to  our  fathers  and  unto  us.  It  partakes 
of  whatever  is  excellent,  both  with  respect  to  soil 
and  climate.  '  Its  surface,  like  Judea,  is  beautifully 
variegated  with  hills  and  vallies,  watered  with  nu- 
merous rivers  fertilizing  as  Jordan,  and  in  point  of 
luxuriance  and  capability  of  culture  it  is  not  inferior 
to  the  so  much  celebrated  Canaan  of  the  east. 

All  the  vegetable  productions  of  Ewope  flourish 
in  some  parts  of  the  United  States.  Here  the  la- 
bours of  tlie  husbandman  are  richly  rewarded. 
The  fields  noxu  bend  beneath  their  annual  tribute. 
The  very  cottage  overflows  with  plenty,  and  the 
peasant's  board  is  covered  with  variety. 

From  our  grannaries  the  islands  of  the  sea  are 
supplied  ;  by  our  ,  harvests  the  hungry  of  many 
nations  are  fed. 

The  land  which  the  Israelites  inherited  was  not 
only  good,  but  large,  including  the  places  of  the 
Canaanites,  the  Hittites,  the  Amorites,  the  Periz- 
zites^  the  Hevites,  and  the  Jebusites.  So  is  united 
America  large,  extending  from  the  Atlantic  to  the 
Missisippi ;  from  the  Irroquois  to  the  St.  Mary's. 
A  territory  greater  in  extent  than  Britain,  Ireland, 
France,  Portugal,  Spain,  Germany,  Holland,  Italy, 
European  Turkey,  Hungary,  Bohemia,  Sv/itzer- 
land  and  Lithuania.  Thousands  of  townships  have 
been  peopled,  and  millions  of  acres  cleared,  since  the 
revolution.      Multitudes  are    still   penetrating    the 


21 

regions  of  the  west,  and  converting  the  forest  into  the 
fruitful  field,  and  yet  there  is  room — rooni  for  our  own 
increasing  population,  and  also  for  the  numerous 
emigrants  flocking  hither  from  distant  nations. 

Was  the  land  of  Judea  divided  amongst  its  inhabi- 
tants ?  So  in  this  favored  country — the  cultivator  is 
the  proprietor  of  the  soil.  "  No  usurping  despot 
here  fixes  his  standard  and  awes  Americans  into  a 
state  of  vassalage.  No  haughty  nobility  engrosses 
the  soil,  and  reduces  the  people  to  the  necessity  of 
starving  or  submitting  to  the  drudgery  of  slaves." 
No  ;  "  each  man  is  his  own  master,  walks  on  his  own 
p-round,"*  tills  his  own  field,  eats  tlie  fruit  of 
his  own  labour y  and  rests  beneath  the  shade  of  his  o^vn 
fg.tree. 

Did  the  Israelites  enjoy,  in  the  land  whither  they 
were  brought,  the  inestimable  privilege  of  worship- 
ping God  according  to  the  dictates  of  their  con- 
sciences and  the  precepts  of  his  word  ?  So  do  iVmeri- 
cans. 

In  defence  of  religious  liberty  many  of  our  ances- 
tors suffered  martyrdom.  In  pursuit  of  this  they  left 
their  native  country,  and  Red  to  the  wilderness^  where 
after  many  struggles  they  obtained  it. 

In  these  United  States  no  civil  code  binds  the 
conscience;  no  assuming  pontiff  dictates  to  us  our 
faith.     Happy,    thrice  happy    land,   where  religion 

*  Maxcy's  Oratien. 


22 

stands  upon  its  own  basis,  where  truth  is  vindicated 
by  its  own  weapons,  and  conquers  by  its  own  evi- 
dence. Here  light  without  a  veil  emanates  from  the 
sun  of  righteousness,  and  salvation,  without  a  mix- 
ture,  flows  pure  and  unrestrained  from  its  sacred 
source — the  gosp  eL 

Such  is  our  situation,  and  such  our  privilege. 
*'  This  is  indeed  the  l^ord's  doing,  and  it  is  marvellous 
in  our  eyes." 

Is  our  present  situation  marvellous  ?  It  will  appear 
more  so,  if  we  consider  the  means  by  which  we  have 
been  exalted  to  it. 

The  manner  in  which  these  colonies  have  been 
preserved  from  savage  barbarity,  from  French 
usurpation,  and  finally  delivered  from  British  tyranny, 
is  little  less  than  miraculous. 

While  it  was  in  the  power  of  the  natives  to  have 
swallowed  us  up,  they  were  mercifully  restrained  : 
afierwards,  when  they  attempted  it,  they  were  deliv- 
ered into  our  hand. 

Against  the  French,  God  fought  for  America.  In 
this  warfare  he  enlisted  the  elements,  marshalled  the 
thunder,  and  commissioned  the  pestilence. 

The  fleet  which  was  fitted  out  in  1746,  at  vast 
expence,  for  the  sanguinary  purpose  of  conquering 
Nova- Scotia,  destroying  Boston,  and  ravaging  the 
whole  extent  of  our  defenceless  coasts,  was  providen- 
tially defeated  in  its  object.  After  this  mighty  arma- 
ment was  ready  to  put  to  sea,  it  was  shut  up  for  weeks' 


25 

m  tfie  ports  of  France,  by  an  embargo ^o;?^  heaven. 
When  crossing  the  Atlantic,  its  ships  were  so  tossed 
by  the  waves  and  shattered  by  the  tempests,  that 
like  the  chariots  of  Pharaoh,  when  the  Lord  looked 
upon  them  through  the  pillar  of  fire,  they  moved  heavi- 
ly.    A  part  only  of  this  fleet  ever  reached  our  shores. 
The  admiral,  to  whom  this  work  of  death  was  com- 
mitted, disheartened  by  those  disasters,  fell  into  an 
apoplexy,  or  drank  poison  and  died.     1  he  second  in 
command,  struck  with  sudden  terror  from  the  Al- 
mighty, put  an  end  to  his  own  life.     The  third  ac- 
complished a  landing  at  Chebucto.     But   no  sooner 
had  he  pitched  his  camp  than  the  Angel  of  the  Lord 
smote  it  with  pestilence,  and  it  became,  like  the  camp 
of  Assyria,  full  of  dead  men.     Thus  the  Almighty 
laid  his  veto  upon  their  arms,  and  compelled  them  fa 
return  by  the  way  they  came,  without  so  much  as  lift- 
ing a  spear  or  shooting  an  arrow  against  the  cities  thej 
were  destined  to  destroy.     Our  fathers  stood  still  and 
saw  the  salvation  ofGod.^ 

The  satne  providential  care  was  extended  to  these 
colonies  during  the  revolutionary  war. 

An  event  so  great  as  the  dismemberment  of  this 
country  from  Britain,  was  not  to  be  accomplished 
without  struggles  and  contests.  The  issue  was  av/- 
fully  dubious.  Human  probability  declared  against 
the  attempt.     The  decree,  however,  was  passed  in 


*  For  a  more  particular  account  of  these  disasters,  see  TrumbuJl'* 
history  of  the  last  century^ 


24 

heaven.  In  the  eighteenth  century,  America  was  i6 
shake  off  the  yoke  and  become  free  and  independent  ; 
and  aheady  "in^I  God  prepared  the  instrument  by 
which  this  was  to  be  accomplished.  Was  Ivloses 
formed  to  rescue  ancient  Israel  from  bondage  ?  So 
was  Washington,  to  rescue  this  western  and  modern 
Israel  of  the  Lord. 

The  glory  of  furnishing  protectors  belongs  to  God  ; 
and  who  does  not  see  his  wisdom  and  goodness  in 
raising  such  a  character  at  such  a  crisis  ?  His  equal 
had  not  existed  for  ages,  and  probably  will  not  for 
ajges  to  come,  like  the  celebrated  leader  of  Israeh 
he  was  great  in  the  sight  of  ail  his  people  and  all  their 
enemies.  Great  with  respect  to  the  energies  of  his 
mind,  the  resources  of  his  genius,  and  great  with  re- 
spect to  that  divine  efficacy  which  stamped  victory  on 
his  arms,  and  crowned  hia  exertions  with  success. 

He  was  providentially  fitted  for  the  part  he  was 
called  to  act,  and  providentially  introduced  upon  the 
theatre  of  action. 

*'  His  education  was  sueh  as  f.ivored  the  production 
of  a  sound  mind  and  a  vigorous  body."*  The  early 
habits  of  his  youth  prepared  him  to  endure  the  toils 
and  fatiarues  of  after  life. 


^&' 


The  part  he  acted  when  the  unfortunate  Braddock 
fell,  brought  his  character  into  view,  made  him  known 
to  his  country,  and  wasjustli/  considered  as  a  presage 
of  his  future  greatness. f    Thus  God  prepared  his  ser- 


*  Ramsay's  history. 
I  See  Dayics'  sermon,  delivered  soon  after  Braddock's  deff-afr 


55 

Vint,  and  at  length  when  matured  by  age,  and  furnish- 
ed with  experience,  a  vast  scene  opened  before  him, 
where  all  his  talents  might  be  displayed,  and  all  liis 
energies  exerted. 

Already  was  America  invaded.  The  roar  of  Bri- 
tish cannon  was  heard  from  our  harbors,  and  a  rriar- 
tial  band  was  parading  on  our  shores.  Every  thing 
was  in  jeopardy.  A  secret  sigh  now  escaped  from 
the  patriot's  bosom.*  The  sage  rvorn  out  -with  toils 
and  bending  upon  his  staff  shook  his  hoary  locks  and 
said,  "  my  son^  your  cause  is  good,  I  wish  you  suc- 
cess, but  I  fear  your  undisciplined  valour  will  be  over-, 
come  in  the  unequal  contest."  The  hearts  of  many 
fainted  witliin  them^  and  many  said,  "  Who  is  able  to 
go  up  and  fight  against  this  people  ?  for  they  be 
mightier  than  we."  At  this  eventful  period  tho:  guar- 
dians of  our  liberty  looked  round  with  trembling 
hopes,  to  find  a  man  who  was  able  to  bear  his  coun- 
try's shield  and  who  might  be  trusted  to  wield  her 
sword.  Every  eye  fixed  on  Washington*  The  ex- 
ploits of  his  youth  now  rose  in  grateful  recollection. 
Their  choice  was  unanimous,  and  the  event  proved 
that  it  was  decided  by  Heaven.  He  obeyed  the  man- 
date  of  his  country,  submitted  himself  to  her  dispo- 
sal, and  looking  up  to  God  for  guidance  and  protec- 
tion, went  forth  and  stood  in  the  very  front  of  her 
dangers.     Av/ful  was    his  responsibility — immense 


*  See  Ramsay's  account  of  Uie  doubts  entertained  in  1775,  by  many  of 
the  truest  friends  of  America,  concerning  the  war  with  Britiiln. 

4 


2d 

his  duty  ;  in  the  discharge  of  which,  no  one,  since 
the  leader  who  went  before  Israel  through  the  wilder- 
ness, ever  had  greater  difficulties  to  encounter,  or  met 
them  with  greater  magnanimity. 

For  every  event  he  was  prepared.  In  battle  he  was 
terrible  ;  skilful  in  retreat.  In  prosperity  he  was 
humble  ;  in  adversity  unshaken.  Not  like  Saul  who 
slew  himself  on  mount  Gilboa.  When  he  was  un- 
successful he  submitted  to  the  decree  of  Heaven,  and 
still  trusted  in  the  God  of  battles. 

He  knew  how  to  brook  disappointment.  He  co\\\(X 
bear  with  the  murmurings  and  jealousy  of  the  ignor- 
ant. Opposition  only  increased  his  firmness,  danger 
strengthened  his  fortitude,  and  amid  all  the  perils  and 
disasters  of  the  revolution  his  steady  eye  never  once 
lost  sight  of  its  object — his  country's  welfare.  At 
length  Heaven  interposed,  lent  him  the  aids  of  a  for- 
eign army,  and  led  him  to  victory  and  glory. 

Such  an  instrument  of  good  to  mankind,  bears  on 
itself  the  divine  impression. 

In  the  achievements  of  Washington  if  nothing  was 
miraculous,  every  thing  w' as  providential.  The  winds 
and  the  sea  contributed  to  his  victories,*  and  the 
lingering  night  covered  his  retreat.f 

In  the  midst  of  danger,  and  in  the  face  of  death,  his 
life  was  protracted  to  a  good  old  age,  "  and  yet  his  eye 
was  not  dim,  nor  his  natural  force  abated."     He  led 

*-  When  CoroTVftlUs,  was  captured.  f  From  Long-Island. 


27 

Ills  brethren  not  only  to  the  borders,  but  entered  with 
them  into  the  land  of  peace  ;  and  having  once  saved 
his  country  from  ruin  by  his  sword,  he  again  saved  it 
by  his  counsels  and  infiuence. 

Thesc  were  the  objects  for  which  this  illustrious 
personage  was  raised  up.  And  when  these  objects 
were  accomplished,  God  laid  this  instrument  in  all  its 
majesty  aside,  to  teach  the  world,  that  though  he  had 
made  use  of  it  he  needed  it  not. 

Washington  is  no  more.  This  day  reminds  us  of 
our  loss  and  mingles  anguish  with  its  joy.  Ah  much 
loved  patriot,  while  we  reap  the  fruit  of  thy  agony  and 
toil,  we  remember  thy  name  and  thy  virtues.  Thy 
name  is  embalmed  in  our  bosoms,  and  thy  virtues  are 
recorded  on  the  living  tablets  of  our  hearts. 

Look  to  the  sepulchre  where  he  lies  and  weep. 
Weep  ye  hoary  veterans  who  once  marched  under  his 
banner,  and  fought  by  his  side.  Weep  ye  mothers, 
for  he  shielded  your  babes  by  his  valour,  he  watched 
your  dwellings  while  you  slept.  Weep,  Americans, 
for  Washington  the  father  of  your  country,  the  de- 
fender of  your  liberties,  is  no  more. 

Let  succeeding  generations  sigh  o'er  his  ashes,  and 
the  infants  of  posterity,  lisping  his  virtues,  drop  tears 
of  gratitude  round  his  tomb. 

Li  the  view  of  these  things,  while  you  contemplate  the 
former  sufferings,  the  present  glory  and  happiness  of 
your  country,  and  the  inearis  by  which  it  has  been  ex- 
alted to  that  happiness  and  glory,  can  you  hesitate  to, 


28 

apply  to  American  Israel  the  sentiment  of  my  text  ? 
Who  is  the  author  of  these  mercies  ?  and  whence 
hath  this  sah'^tion  come  ?  Who  preserved  your  fa- 
thers from  the  tomahawk  of  the  savage, and  yourselves 
from  the  vengeance  of  Britain  ?  Who  raised  up 
Washington  to  fight  your  battles  and  preside  over 
your  councils  ?  IF/io  hath  driven  out  the  heathen  be^ 
fore  you,  and  set  your  feet  in  a  broad  place  ?  Who 
hath  established  your  independence  on  a  sure  founda- 
tion, and  given  you  peace  from  all  your  enemies  round 
about  ?  Who  hath  done  all  this,  yea  more  than  this, 
who  hath  shed  upon  you  the  light  of  celestial  day,  and 
disclosed  to  your  view  the  realities  of  the  world  to 
come  ? 

Manifestly  the  Lord  God  of  hosts,  the  God  of  the 
armies  of  Israel. 

This  is  God's  kindness  to  hispeoplef  Your  fathers 
leaned  on  God's  promises,  and  walked  in  the  sunshine 
of  his  tuvrd.  And  now  n  hile  they  rest  from  their  la- 
bors, we  their  children  are  reaping  the  fruits  of  their 
piety  and  receiving  the  answer  to  their  prayers. 

Do  you  enquire  hoM^  you  may  still  prosper,  and 
in  what  way  your  inheritance  may  be  rendered  per- 
manent and  secure  ?  I  answer,  "  Believe  in  the  Lord 
your  God,  so  shall  ye  be  established  ;  believe  in  his 
prophets  so  shall  ye  prosper."  Is  God  the  author  of 
your  independence  ?  Has  he  established  you  in  this 
land  of  plenty  and  of  peace  ?  Then  have  you  nothing 
to  seek  but  his  fdvor  ;  nothing  to  dread  but  his  dis- 


29 

pleasure.  Walk  then  before  him  and  be  ye  perfect. 
Let  your  conversation  be  such  as  becometh  godliness. 
Adorn  the  doctrine  of  God  our  savior. 

Attend  to  the  education  of  your  children  as  a  mat- 
ter of  the  first  importance.  If  you  wish  them  to  be 
governed  by  motives,  and  not  by  stripes  ;  as  free  men 
and  not  as  slaves  ;  you  must  be  at  pains  to  furnish  their 
minds  with  necessary  knowledge,  especially  with  the 
knowledge  of  religion.  You  may  leave  them  liber- 
ty ;  but  it  is  a  blessing  which  they  cannot  long  enjoy, 
tinless  their  understandings  are  enlightened  by  science 
and  their  hearts  sanctified  by  grace. 

Imitate  then  the  example  of  your  pious  ancestors  ; 
nurture  your  sons  and  your  daughters  in  piety  ;  train 
up  your  household  in  the  admonition  of  the  Lord. 
Early  teach  them  subordination.     Let  their  habits  of 
thinking  and  acting  be  formed,  not  from  the  came- 
lion  pages  of  a  newspaper,  whose  morality  is   the  in- 
terest of  a  party,  and  whose  precepts  change  with  the 
result  of  an  election ;  hut  from   the  oracles  of  God. 
These  teach  the  truest  politics  ;   these  the  purest 
morals.     Hence  let  them  learn  to  pay  tribute  cheer- 
fully  unto    Casar^and  that  to  spea/^  evil  unjustly  of 
the  ruler  of  God^s  people  is  sin. 

Guard  them  against,  and  guard  yourselves  against 
visionary  notions  of  government,  founded  on  mistak- 
en ideas  of  human  nature.  Consider  that  man  an 
enemy  who  endeavours  to  make  you  believe  mankind 
are  not  depraved,  when  God  and  conscience  both 


50 

teach  you  a  contrary  doctrine.  Such  insinuations 
are  at  once  an  incitement  to  your  vanity,  and  an  insuh 
to  your  understanding. 

The  scriptures  contain  the  only  true  philosophy  on 
this  subject.  They  teach,  that  the  heart  of  man  is 
deeeitful  above  all  things  and  desperately  xvicked. 

From  this  source  arises  your  greatest  danger.  If 
you  lose  your  virtue,  liberty  will  be  a  curse.  You 
feel  secure,  because  the  people  govern.  But  if  the 
people  become  corrupt,  where  is  your  security  ?  The 
officers  of  government  are  taken  from  among  your- 
selves. And  do  you  believe  an  impure  fountain  will 
send  forth  pure  streams  ?  The  only  way  to  have 
virtuous  rulers  is  to  be  virtuous  yourselves.  If  you 
make  yourselves  vile,  you  must  expect  they  will  be 
vile  also.  You  say  public  officers  are  your  servants, 
and  that  you  will  watch  their  conduct.  But  can  you 
believe  there  will  be  peace  or  safety  when  corruption 
only  is  left  to  watch  corruption,  and  satan  to  reprove 
sin? 

The  government  of  our  country  is  a  government 
of  opinion,  rather  than  of  force.  More  is  therefore 
to  be  feared  from  the  depravity  of  ourselves  than  of 
our  rulers.  If  they  become  corrupt,  the  people  can 
displace  them  ;  but  if  the  people  themselves  become 
corrupt,  it  is  an  evil  without  a  remedy.  While  the 
will  of  the  people  is  on  the  side  of  virtue,  we  shall 
remain  happy  ;  but  whenever  it  preponderates  to  the 
side  of  vice,  we  must  be  miserable. 


31 

Act  then  at  all  times  a  decided  part  in  favour  of 
religion.  On  this  the  safety  of  your  country,  as  well 
as  the  salvation  of  your  souls,  depends.  Without 
this  no  people  can  long  be  prosperous  and  happy. 
"  This  is  the  cement  of  society  ;  this  the  tie  that  binds 
man  to  man,  and  man  to  God."  Without  relidon 
the  sanctions  of  an  oath  have  no  validity  ;  contracts 
,  cannot  be  supported  ;  crimes  cannot  be  investigated  . 
and  courts  of  justice  must  cease.  Without  this, 
how  is  your  reputation  to  be  secured  from  the  slan- 
derer's tongue,  your  property  from  the  robber's  grasp, 
or  your  life  from  the  assassin's  dagger  ?  Imperfect 
indeed  must  be  that  security  which  results  only  from 
the  civil  law. 

Revere  therefore  public  worship,  and  sanctify  the 
sabbaths  of  the  Lord.  When  the  public  institutions 
of  the  gospel  are  brought  into  disgrace,  private  virtue 
will  cease.  It  is  in  the  churches  of  Christ  that  men  are 
taught  to  dread  the  judgments  of  heaven,  and  believe 
in  the  providence  of  God. 

Avoid  the  pollutions,  and  reist  the  influence  of  in- 
fidelity. Yield  not  to  its  flatteries ;  be  not  deceived 
by  its  smiles.  It  never  approaches  virtue,  but  that  it 
may  pollute  her  ;  it  never  takes  liberty  by  the  hand, 
but  when  it  designs  her  as  its  victim.  Its  doctrines 
are,  that  all  future  responsibility  is  a  chimera  ;  that 
death  is  an  eternal  sleep  ;  and  that  the  end  sanctifies 
the  means.  Doctrines,  which  put  in  practice,  must 
revive  the  pollutions  of  Sodom,  and  the  abominations 
of  Gomorrah.     Thus  by  corrupting  the  heart,  de- 


praving  the  morals,  and  taking  off  all  restraint  front 
the  wicked,  infidelity  sunders  the  verij  bonds,  and 
nndcrmines  the  very  foundations  of  society. 

Infidelity  has  already  converted  Europe  into  one 
vast  Golgotha.  Around  its  seat  the  earth  is  covered 
with  bones  and  soaked  in  blood.  Still  hungry  as  the 
grave  it  shakes  its  bloody  sceptre,  and  growls  de- 
struction to  the  world. 

A  departure  from  the  pure  principles  of  religion  has 
been,  in  all  ages,  and  in  every  country,  the  sad  prelude 
to  destruction.  When  the  Jews  became  hardened  in 
sin,  when  they  rejected  the  Saviour  who  died  for 
them,  judgment  came  upon  them  to  the  uttermost^ 
Their  city  was  rased  to  its  foundations,  their  land 
given  unto  strangers,  and  they  were  driven  out  from 
Judea  and  scattered  abroad  over  the  face  of  the  whole 
world.  In  like  manner  God  is  now  scourging  the 
nations  of  Europe,  mIio  ha^ e  lost  their  first  love, 
and  provoked  him  to  anger  by  their  disobedience. 

With  these  examples  before  your  eyes,  can  you 
madly  act  over  the  part  which  they  have  acted, 
and  rush  to  that  destruction  to  which  they  have  rush- 
ed ? 

Your  fathers  were  pious.  When  they  landed  on 
these  shores,  they  made  a  covenant  with  God,  and 
solemnly  dedicated  themselves  and  their  offspring  to 
the  Almighty.  For  their  sakes  hitherto,  you  have 
been  blessed.  But  can  you  imagine  if  you  deny  the 
God  they  worshipped,  if  you  blaspheme  the  Savior 


3S 

r'^-T      :■■>■••  ■   ■   '  ■■    ■   ■  - 

mey  trusted,  and  turn  aside  from  the  paths  in  which 

they  walked,  that  you  will  enjoy  the  protection  they 
enjoyed,  and  hand  down  to  your  posterity  the  bless- 
ings they  handed  down  to  you  ?  No  ;  if  there  be  any 
truth  in  God,  ye  shall  not  prosper.  For  he  who 
holds  your  country's  destiny  in  his  hand,  hath  sworn 
by  himself,  that  if  ye  do  these  things,  wrath  shall  Jail 
upon  you,  and  judgment  from  the  Almighty  shall  over- 
take  you.  And  you  shall  he  cursed  in  the  city  and 
cursed  in  the  jield.  Cursed  shall  be  your  basket  and 
your  store.  Cursed  the  fruit  efyour  body  and  the  fruit 
of  your  land,  the  increase  of  your  kine  and  the  focks  of 
your  sheep.  Cursed  when  ye  come  in  and  cursed  when 
ye  go  out.  "  For,  saith  the  Lord,  I  lift  mine  hand  to 
heaven,  and  I  live  for  ever.  If  I  whet  my  glittering 
sword,  and  mine  hand  take  hold  on  judgment,  I  will 
render  vengeance  to  mine  enemies,  and  will  reward 
them  that  hate  me." 

God  is  not  a  disinterested  spectator  of  the  conduct 
of  men.  With  holy  indignation  he  looks  down  and 
beholds  the  abominations  of  the  tarth.  He  has  al- 
ready come  forth  out  of  his  place  to  punish  the  na- 
tions for  their  sins.  A  fire  is  kindling  in  his  anger, 
that  shall  burn  to  the  lowest  hell,  and  shall  consume  the 
earth  with  her  increase,  and  set  on  fire  thejoundations 
vf  the  mountains.  Hitherto  he  hath  borne  with  us  ; 
but  there  is  something  fearful  even  in  this  forbearance. 
For  the  longer  his  mercy  spares  us,  unless  we  repent, 
the  fuller  will  be  the  vials  of  his  wrath,  and  the  more 
dreadful  the  day  of  our  visitation. 

Turn  therefore  y}-ow2  your  evilivays  ;for  xvhy  will 
yc  die,  0  home  of  Israel. 

4 


S4 

Choose  you  this  day  whom  you  %vill  serve.     This 
is  no  time  to  hesitate.     Your  country  is  in  jeopardy  ; 
your  all  is  at  stake.     If  immorality,  impiety  and  infi- 
delity prevail,   they  will   plunder  you  of  happiness 
here,  and  rob  you  of  Heaven  hereafter.     Patriots,  I 
adjure  you  by  the  love  of  your  country  ;  Christians,  I 
adjure  you  hy  the  love  of  Emanuel,  to  unite  in  your 
exertions   to  oppose  the  common  enemies  of  your 
peace,   your  liberty  and  jour  salvation.     Why  will 
you  weaken  each  otliers  infiuence  by  division   ?  Arc 
you  not  all  brethren  ?  Is  not  your  interest  one  ?  Are 
not  your   dangers  the  same  ?  A  portion,  rich  and 
immense,  is  put  in  your  possession.     Will  you  cast  it 
from  you  ?  W^ill  you   despise  the  bounty  of  Heaven, 
and  sport  with  an  inheritance  purchased  with  the  toils 
of  your  ancestors  and  the  blood  of  your  brethren  ? 
No  party  interests  governed  your  fathers  ;  no  foreign 
influence   divided  them.     No  ;     they  were  united  ; 
united  in  the  love  of  their    country  ;  united  in  the 
duties-  of  religion  ;  united  in  the  worship  of  their  God. 
7%fy  have  obtained  the  victory  ;  they  have  received 
the    crown  ;  they  have   entered   into  Heaven.     And 
now,  bending  from  yonder  skies,  they  address  you, 
saying,  "  Children  of  our  pilgrimage  below,  imitate 
tlie   example  we   have   left    you    ;    be   virtuous,   be 
united,  be  happy.     Act  V\orthycf  yourselves.     Hand 
down   to  posterity  unimpaired  the  portion  which  wc 
left  you,  and  persevering  through  faith  to  the   end, 
comciip  hither." 

Yc  spirits  of  our  fathers,  we  hear  ycur  voice  ;  wc 
venerate  your  counsel.  W^e  will  obey  it.  We  will 
hojiO'^rthe  Saviour  you  honored,  revere  the  religion 


35 

you  revered,  defend  the  liberties  you  defended,  and 
press  toward  the  glory  you  have  attained.  Already 
do  our  souls  aspire  to  heaven,  and  our  hearts  pant 
after  immort  lity  ;  and  we  trust  that  the  God  who  led 
you  through  this  v^ilc  of  tears  will  not  forsake  us  ;  but 
that  through  the  grace  which  hath  made  you  perfect, 
we  sh:dl  be  made  perfect  also.     Wherefore   our 

HEARTS  ARE  GLAD,  OUR  GLORY  REJOICETH, 
AMD  OUR  FLESH  SHAtL  REST  IN  HOF£.      v^il/is'A'*. 


DISCOURSE, 

BILIVERED    IN    THE 

PRESBYTERIAN   CHURCH, 
In  the  city  of  Albany, 

BErORB    TUX 


rOR    THE    JLELIET    OF 


DISTRESSED  WOMEN  AND  CHILDREN. 

March  18th,  1804. 
BY  ELIPHALET  NOTT,  A.  M. 

YXSTOa   07  SAIO   CBVICK 


TO  THE 

MEMBERS  or  THE  LADIES'  SOCIETY, 

INSTITUTED 

FOR  THE  RELIEF  OF 

DISTRESSED  WOMEN  AND  CHILDREN, 
The  subsequent  Discourse^ 

PUBLISHED   EXCLUSIVELY  FOR  THEIR  BENEFIT, 
jtJ^D  AT  THEIR  REQUEST, 

IS  RESPECTFULLY  INSCRIBED, 

THEIR  CORDIAL  FRIEND, 

AKD 

OBEDIENT  SERVANT, 

THE  AUTHOR. 


TO  THE  PUBLIC. 

1  HE  following  Discourse,  as  will 
readily  be  believed  by  all  who  read  it,  was  written 
in  great  haste,  under  the  pressure  of  numerous 
distressing  cares,  and  in  the  midst  of  unavoidable 
interruptions.  The  causes  which  compelled  a  hasty 
draught,  in  the  first  instance,  prevent  a  deliberate  and 
corrected  copy.  The  Author  submits  it  therefore 
to  the  public,  nearly  in  the  state  in  whieh  it  was  . 
delivered  ;  and  his  apology  for  so  doing,  is  a  belief 
that  its  avails  will  be  a  mite,  at  least,  put  into  benev 

OLEKT  HANDS,  to  buy  BREAD  FOR  THE  HUNGRY, 
AND    RAIMENT    FOR    THE      NAKED. The     circUUl - 

Stances  under  which  it  was  written  will,  the  Author 
trusts,  soften  the  edge  of  criticism  ;  and  the  motives 
which  induce  him  to  consent  to  its  publication,  meet 
the  approbation  of  humanity.  Be  this  however  as  it 
may,  should  the  funds  of  the  Society  be  benefited 
by  the  sale  of  it — should  the  arguments  unfolded 
in  it,  awaken  the  public  attention,  and  excite  the 
public  sympathy  towards  afflicted,  unfortu- 
nate,    AND      PERISHING      HUMANITY aboVC    all,      ' 

should  it  excite,  by  the  Divine  blessing,  to  the  prac- 
tice of  Christian  CHARITY,  the  Author  will  have 
received  for  his  labor  an  abundant  reward,  and  for 
any  censures  which  it  may  occasion,  sufficient  indem- 
nity. 


6 


4^^ 


DISCOURSE. 


JOB,  XXIX,  11,  12. 

When  the  ear  heard  me,  then  it  blessed  me  ;  and  when 
the  eye  saw  me,  it  gave  witness  to  me  :  because  I 
delivered  the  poor  that  eried^  the  fatherless ,  and  him 
that  had  none  to  help    him. 

1  HUS  spake  the  prince  of  Uz — whose  histo- 
ry, no  less  singular  than  affecting,  is  filled  with  disas- 
ter, and  unfolds  to  our  view  an  instance  of  the  most 
sad  and  sudden  reverse  of  fortune. 

On  the  morning  of  an  eventful  day,  which  proved 
fatal  to  every  earthly  hope,  this  venerable  nian  arose 
in  affluence  and  prosperity  :  his  herds  were  grazing 
in  their  pastures  ;  his  oxen  ploughing  in  the  field, 
and  his  flocks  whitened  the  hills.  His  sons  and  his 
daughters,  united  by  a  thousimd  endearments,  and 
participating  in  the  felicities  of  social  life,  gladdened 
a  parent's  heart,  whilst  they  met  to  express  their 
mutual  love,  and  regale  themselves  at  their  eldest 
brother's  house. 


44 

Flattering,  vmclouded  prospect  !  But  ah  !  how  soon 
was  it  overspread  with  darkness  !  In  an  hour  this 
seeming  glory  perished  ;  and  he  who  arose  in  the 
mor?iing,  in  so  much  affluence,  the  greatest  of  all  the 
men  of  the  East — plundered  of  his  property — bereav- 
ed of  his  children,  sat  down  at  night  in  wretchedness, 
to  bewail  his  untimely  loss,  and  weep  over  the  ruins 
of  recollected  greatness. 

*'  Then  Job  arosc,and  rent  hjs  mantle,  and  shaved  his 
head,  and  fell  down  upon  the  ground  and  worshipped, 
and  said.  Naked  came  I  out  of  my  mother's  womb 
and  naked  shall  I  return  thither  ;  the  Lord  gave,  and 
the  Lord  hath  taken  away  ;  blessed  be  the  name  of  the 
Lord." 

Resigned  as  Job  was  to  personal  humiliation,  he 
could  not  refrain  from  lamentation  at  the  remem- 
brance of  his  former  charities — charities  which  it  was 
now  no  longer  possible  for  him  to  bestow.  Casting 
an  eye  over  the  suffering  poor,  who  had  heretofore 
been  fed  from  his  table,  and  whose  loins  had  been 
warmed  by  the  fleece  of  his  flock,  and  affected  at 
their  present  pitiable  condition,  left  without  a  friend 
to  solace  or  a  benefactor  to  relieve  them,  he  exclaimed, 
*'  O  that  I  were  as  in  months  past,  as  in  the  days  when 
God  preserved  me.  When  the  ear  heard  me.  then  it 
blessed  me  ;  and  when  the  eye  saw  me,  it  gave 
witness  to  me  ;  because  I  delivered  the  poor  that  cri- 
ed, the  fatherless,  and  him  that  had  none  to  help  him. 
Then  the  blessing  of  him  that  vms  ready  to  perish 


45 

o 

came  upon  me ;  and  I  caused  the  widow's  heart  to  sing 
for  joy.'* 

The  conduct  of  Job  durmg  the  season  of  his  pros- 
perity furnishes  a  noble  example  of  liberal  and  effica- 
cious charity — a  duty  which  we  shall  now  attempt 
to  unfold  and  enforce. 

Charity  is  an  exalted  virtue,  orrather  it  is  the  stock 
from  which  every  other  virtue  germinates.  Charity, 
strictly  speaking,  is  bencv^olence,  the  love  of  God  and 
man  ;  and  as  such,  comprehends  the  whole  ot  practi- 
cal religion.  Its  basis,  in  depraved  creatures,  is 
regeneration  ;  its  object,  happiness — public,  univer- 
sal happiness. —  Charity  seeketh  not  her  oxvn.  Charity 
is  not  confined  or  regulated  by  degrees  of  affinity  or 
consanguinity ;  but,  overleaping  all  these  partial 
boundaries,  encircles  in  her  embrace  the  universe 
of  God. 

So  far  as  charity  respects  the  relief  of  human  mis- 
ery, it  will  cease  with  time  ;  but  the  temper  which 
prompts  to  this,  holy  and  immortal,  like  the  God  from 
whom  it  came,  will  survive  the  ruins  of  the  universe, 
and  unfold  and  display  itself  for  ever.  "  Whether 
there  be  prophecies,  they  shall  fail ;  whether  there  be 
tongues,  they  shall  cease  ;  whether  there  be  knowl- 
edge, it  shall  vanish  away — but  charity  never  faileth." 

As  charity  is  more  permanent,  so  it  is  more  excel- 
lent than  any  other  gift  or  grace.  This  is  the  one 
thing  needful,  for  without  it  there  can  be  no  union  to 
the  Savior,  and  consequently  no  true  religion.  The 
faith  which  is  saving  works  by  love. 


46 

o 

Says  the  Prophet,  "  O  man  !  what  doth  the  Lord 
require  of  thee,  but  to  do  justly,  to  love  mercy,  and 
to  walk  humbly  v.ith  thy  God  ?"  Says  the  Apostle, 
*'  Thou£''h  I  s}Deak  with  the  tongue  of  men  and  angels  ^ 
thouohl  i^ivc  my  body  to  be  burned  ;  though  1  Iw,  e 
all  knowledge,  and  understand  all  mysteries  ;  and 
thouo-h  I  liavc  all  faith,  so  that  I  could  remove  moun- 
tains ;  yet,  if  I  have  not  charity,  I  am  become  as  a 
.sounding  brass  or  a  tinkling  cymbal."  Thus  you  see, 
that  without  charity,  even  faith  itself  is  nugatory.  I 
say  faith  itself,  for  that  faidi  which  is  not  efficient,  ia 
dead,  being  alone. 

"  If  a  brother  or  sister  be  naked  and  destitute  of  daily 
food,  and  one  of  you  say  unto  them.  Depart  in  peace, 
be  ve  warmed  and  filled  :  notwithstanding  ye  give 
them  not  those  things  which  are  needful  to  the  body, 
what  dolh  it  profit  ?  liven  so  fiiith  without  works  is 
dead."  Hence  said  the  Apostle,  "  Shew  me  thy  faith 
without  thy  works,  and  I  will  shew  thee  my  faith  by 
my  works."  Living  in  a  world  filled  with  human  mis- 
cry,  unless  we  commisserate  that  misery  and  endeav- 
or to  relieve  it,  pretensions  to  godliness  are  vahi. 

"  Pure  rehglon  andundefiled,  before  God  and  the 
Father,  is  this,  To  visit  the  fatherless  and  widows 
in  their  aCIlctlon,  and  to  keep  thy  self  unspotted  from 
\lit:  world."'  Net  that  even  acts  of  charity  are  merito- 
rious. The  truly  charitaljle  man,  after  the  utmost 
iie  has  done  or  can  do,  disclaiming  all  merit,  brings 
liis  honors  and  lays  them  at  the  feet  ofJESUs;and 
4iM/!vifi«^'  u-.  throuR-h  the  srcat  sacrifice  which  he  hath 


47 

presented  to  the  Father,  cherishes  0:1  account  of  it. 
and  it  only,  he  holy  riptarci  of  im.nortal  hope.  But 
though  acts  of  cha  -ity  are  not  meritorious,  they  are 
inseparable  from  a  life  of  piety.  These  evince  the 
sincerity  of  our  professions  here,  and  these  will 
attest  the  reality  of  our  title  to  the  rewards  of  grace 
hereafter. 

"  And  I  heard,"  says  John,  "  a  voice  from  heaven, 
saying  unto  me,  Write,  blessed  are  the  dead  which  die 
in  the  Lord,  from  henceforth:  yea,  saith  the  Spirit, 
that  they  may  rest  from  their  labors  ;  and  their  works 
do  follow  them."  And  whither  do  they  follow  them  ? 
To  the  throne  of  God.  There  every  act  of  genuine 
benevolence  which  we  have  performed,  shall  appear 
and  testify  in  our  behalf.  With  reference  to  which, 
and  for  the  sake  of  him  in  whose  dear  name  they  have 
been  performed,  the  Dispenser  of  life  and  death, 
in  the  view  of  an  assembled  universe,  shall  say  to 
each,  accordingly  as  he  has  distinguished  himself  in 
practical  charity,  "  Well  done,  good  and  faithful  ser- 
vant, thou  hast  been  faithful  over  a  few  things  ;  I  will 
make  thee  ruler  over  many  things  ;  enter  thou  into  the 
joy  of  thy  Lord."  After  which  the  measure  of  their 
felicity  shall  be  full  :  for  as  there  will  remain  in  others 
no  more  miseries  to  relieve,  so  neither  will  there 
remain  in  themselves  any  to  be  relieved. 

Such  briefly  is  the  charity  of  the  gospel :  The 
practice  of  which,  particularly  with  respect  to  alms- 
giving, we  come  now  to   enforce. 

The  arguments  on  which  we  shall  insist  will  be 


48 

drawn  from — The  character  of  the  Deity — the  pre  ^ 
cents  of  his  law — the  promises  and  benedictions  of  his 
gospel — the  example  of  his  saints — and  the  sensible 
pleasure  which  accompanies  or  which  may  result 
from  acts  of  Christian  charity.  And  O  !  may  HE 
who  has  the  hearts  of  all  men  in  his  hand,  soften  ours 
by  his  grace,  and  induce  us,  after  the  example  of  the 
Patriarch — "  to  deliver  the  poor  that  crieth,  the  fath= 
eriess,  and  iiim  that  hath  none  to  help  him." 

The  Character  of  the  Deity. 

In  an  imitation  of  the  Supreme  Being  consists  alike 
the  glory  and  the  happiness  of  man.  Lend  me  your 
attention  therefore  while  I  endeavor  to  place  before 
you,  enrobed  in  mercy,  HIM  whose  being  fills  the 
heavens,  and  whose  benignity  the  heaven  of  heavens 
cannot  contain. 

Entering  on  this  article,  I  pause I  hesi- 
tate  Not  because  I  know  not  what  to  say,  but 

because  I  know  not  where  to  begin  or  where  to  end, 
when  attempting  to  display  the  Creator's  glories. 
On  every  side  an  immeasurable  scene  opens — and 
widens — and  brightens  in  my  sight.  Heaven-Dearth 
— worlds  and  systems,  without  number  and  without 
end,  present  themselves,  each  filled  with  the  bounty 
and  radiant  with  the  splendors  of  the  Deity. 

From  all  these,  on  which  the  inspired  writers  dwelt 
with  transport,  I  shall  select  one  only,  and  that  a  small 
one  too,  for    your  present  meditation.     I  mean  the 


49 

footstool  of  God.  And  even  here,  and  with  reference 
to  ourselves  merely,  the  Divine  mercies  are  without 
bounds  and  without  end.  They  commenced  and  are 
commensurate  with  our  existence — {'hey  have  been 
and  still  are  new  every  morning  and  repeated  CA^ery 
moment  of  our  lives 

For  every  thing  precious  in  existence  we  are 
indebted  unto  God.  From  eternity  he  existed  and 
was  happy.  Infinite  in  himself,  he  needed  not  our 
praises.  His  goodness  however  suffered  him  not  to 
live  alone.  To  display  that  goodness  he  filled  the 
heavens  not  only  with  angels  but  peopled  the  earth 
also  with  men . 

The  organization  of  the  human  body,  the  con- 
stitution of  the  human  mind,  and  the  adaption  of 
each  to  each,  loudly  proclaim  the  Divine  benevo- 
lence. 

All  the  senses  are  mediums  alike  of  information 
and  enjoyment ;  and  even  our  passions,  notv/ithstand- 
ing  their  too  frequently  deceptive  influence,  have  in 
the  economy  of  life,  their  obvious  use.  Fear  warns 
us  of  danger — desire  adds  alacrity  to  pursuit — hope 
softens  our  cares  and  sweetens  our  labors,  simula- 
tion prompts  to  excel  in  virtue — shame  forms  a  bar-- 
rier  to  the  heart  against  vice.  Love  binds  us  to  socie- 
ty sympathy  interests  us  in  the  welfare  of  others, 
and  by  compelling  us  to  take  part  in  their  miseries, 
compels  us  the  more  promptly  to  rcUeve  them. 

7 


50 

The  formation  of  the  body,  no  less  than  the  consti- 
tution  of  the  mind,  proclaim  the  benevolence  of  Him 
who  created  both. 

Could  I  here  unfold  the  various  parts  of  this  fair 
fabric  which  Deity  hath  reared  up;  could  I  lift  the 
veil  which  conceals  beneath  it  the  most  stupendous 
and  kindly  adjusted  mechanism,  and  show  you  to 
yourselves — Could  I  do  this,  who  among  you,  filled 
with  gratitude  as  well  as  with  astonishment,  and 
looking  up  to  your  Creator,  would  not  exclaim,  I  will 
praise  thee,  for  I  am  wonderfully  and  fearfuily,  not 
only,  but  mercifully  made  ! 

'^  From  the  nature  of  man,  turn  your  attention  to  the 
place  of  his  residence.  Contemplate  this  world, 
fitted  up  principally  for  his  use.  Comtemplate  it> 
however,  not  as  it  is  now,  curst  by  transgression  and 
covered  with  ruins,  but  as  it  was  when  it  came  fresh 
and  untarnished  from  the  Creator's  hand.  When, 
beholding  its  rising  grandeurs,  the  morning  stars 
sang  together,  and  the  sons    of  God    shouted    for 

joy ' 

It  was  not  a  wilderness,  but  a  paradise,  that  wa?? 
furnished  originally  for  the  residence  of  man. 
There  flowed  the  river  of  salvation — there  grew  the 
tree  of  life.  Its  keepers  were  angels,  and  its  guar- 
dian and  its  visitor  was  God. 

A  garden,  peerless  in  beauty,  innocent  in  delights, 
and  spontaneous  in  fruits,  unfolded  its  charms  and 
presented  its  bounties  to  the  guiltless  pair.  To  dress 
tliis  garden   was  their  employment,  not  their  toil. 


51 

No  canker  corroded  the  flower,  no  thorn  infested  the 
ground.  The  fruit- tree  supplied  them  with  food — 
the  river  with  water,  and  their  innocence  was  their 
covering. 

Such  was  the  primeval  situation  of  man — 'Nor  to 
man  alone  was  the  Divine  benignity  confined.  The 
herds  also,  pleased  with  their  condition,  cropped  the 
herbage  their  Creator  had  provided  for  them,  and  the 
sportive  flocks  bleated  joyfully  from  a  thousand  hills. 
Beneath  the  same  shade  the  lion  and  the  lamb  lay 
down  together,  and  there  also  the  tyger  fed  and  rested 
with  the  kid.  The  songsters  of  the  grove  chanted 
on  every  side  their  melodious  anthems  to  the  morn- 
ing ;  and  swarms  of  happy  insects  played  in  the 
noon-day  beams,  and  sipped  the  honey  from  the 
flowers.  All  was  life — all  was  innocence — all  was 
bliss  !  As  yet  evil,  neither  natural  nor  moral, 
had  entered  into  the  system.  No  stain  marred 
the  beauty,  or  cloud  veiled  the  lustre  of  the 
world. 

Thus,  originally,  on  every  part  of  nature,  was  in- 
scribed the  Creator's  goodness.  This  is  his  glory, 
a  glory  which  the  heavens  at  first  displayed,  and 
which  the  firmament  of  heaven  shewed  forth. 

Changed  as  things  are  by  the  apostacy,  a  God 
merciful  and  kind,  is  still  seen  in  all  his  works.  The 
sun,  bright  emblem  of  Divinity,  disseminates  his 
beams  ;  the  clouds  shed  upon  the  fields  his  showers  ; 
the  breezes  waft  his  fragrance ;  the  seasons  display 
his  faithfuless,  and  the  very  earth  itself  is  enriched 


52 

and  covered  with  his  bounty.  "  His  paths  drop 
fatness,  they  drop  upon  the  pastures  of  the  wilderness, 
and  the  Uttle  hills  rejoice  on  every  side.  The  pas- 
tures are  clothed  with  flocks,  the  vallies  also  are 
covered  with  corn  :  they  shout  for  joy,  they  also 
sing." 

What  a  glorious  display  of  all  that  is  benevolent 
and  kind,  do  the  works  of  nature  afford.     Mercy 
shines  conspicuously  in  every  herb,  and  plant,  and 
flower  of  the  fiield. — These  all,  and  more  than  these  ; 
earth — heaven — the  universe  itself,  with  all  its  joys 
and  lovelinesses,  is  but  one  vast  expression  of  His 
benignity  who  created  it.     Who,  though  enthroned 
on  high,  and  encircled  by  the  pialses  of  the  blessed, 
hath  respect  unto    the    lowly  :    Who    ni  mbers,   O 
man,  thy  hairs,  and  supplies  thy  wants  — Thy  wants, 
did  I  say  ?  The  young  lions  roar,  and    God  heareth 
them — Yea,  the  cries  of  the  young  ra  vens  come  up 
before  his  throne. 

Would  time  permit,  we  might  infinitely  extend 
this  article.  We  might  rise  above  the  earth  and 
survey  those  orbs  which  decorate  the  heavens,  and 
seen,  though  at  nn  awful  distance,  by  the  eye  of  man, 
embellish  the  throne  of  God.  We  might  do  more 
than  this  :  for,  shall  we  suppose  that  the  boundaries 
of  God's  creation  are  fixed  by  the  narr  ow  ken  of  m.or- 
tals  ?  Shall  we  suppose  that  beings  inhabiting  his 
footstool  ;  beings  who  sprung  up  yesterday  from  the 
dust  of  their  mother  earth,  and  who  to-morroxv  shall 
retum  again  into  her  bo3om,  by  the  help  even  of  ar- 
tificial  tubes   and  glasses,  can  extend   their   view 


53 

over  all  that  Eternal  wisdom  hatli  contrived  or  Al- 
mighty power  created  ?  Reason,  and  more  than 
reason,  revelation,  condemns  tlus  absurd  idea. 
Would  time  permit  us,  we  might  therefore,  in  the 
spirit  of  the  inspired  ^^Titers,  range  the  immensity 
of  space,  where  world  rises  above  world,  aixl  system 
above  system,  till  filled  with  profound  astonishment, 
and  descending  again  to  our  humble  habitation, 
rendered  still  more  humble  by  a  comparison  with 
other  parts  of  the  creation,  we  could  say  with  David 
*'  When  I  consider  the  heavens,  the  work  of  tliy  fin- 
gers ;  the  moon  and  the  stars  which  thou  hast  ordain- 
ed: What  is  man,  that  thou  art  mindful  of  him  ?  and 
the  son  of  man  that  thou  visitest  him  ?"  Yet  over  all 
this  stupendous  empire,  God  reigns  !  Throu"-h  eve- 
ry part  of  it,  he  dispenses  numberless  and  perpetual 
blessings !  And  though  "  thousands  of  thousands  and 
ten  thousand  times  ten  thousand"  beings,  of  different 
capacities  and  wants,  are  scattered  abroad  before  him 
not  one  of  them  is  overlooked,  forgotten  or  neglected. 
"  The  eyes  of  all  wait  upon  the  I^ord,  and  he  givetli 
them  their  meat  in  due  season." 

But  the  works  of  nature,  rich  in  mercy  and 
boundless  in  extent  as  they  are,  furnish  a  par- 
tial and  imperfect  view  only  of  Divine  benig- 
nity. 

In  the  gospel  alone  this  attribute  is  exhibited  at 
full  length — and  in  the  most  commanding  attitude. 
Here  DIVINITY  is  seen  promoting  happiness  not 
only,  but  expiating  guilt,  and  weeping  over  misery 
also.     Here  we  behold  the  happy  and  immortal  God, 


54 

stooping  from  his  throne,  and  interposing  in  behalf 
of  man,  guilty,  ungateful  and  ruined  man---unfold- 
ing  a  plan  for  his  recovery,  and  even  snatching  from 
destruction,  in  a  sovereign  manner,  a  great  multi- 
tude  which  cannot  be  numbered  ;  ivho,  being  reno- 
vated in  their  natures,  and  cleansed  from  their  pollu- 
tions, are  destined  to  repeople  heaven,  and  fill  those 
original  mansions  made  vacant  there,  by  the  first  re- 
bellion. 

You  will  say  perhaps  that  these  displays  o  Divine 
benignity,  which  astonish  and  absorb  the  mind,  when 
made  the  objects  of  its  contemplation,  are  too  august 
and  dazzling  to  be  considered  as  models  for  human 
imitation. 

If  you  say  this,  it  is  not  because  you  have  contem- 
plated God  in  creation  or  redemption,  too  much ; 
but  too  little.  1:1  the  latter  particularly,  he  has  even 
accommodated  himself  to  our  weakness,  that  he 
might  be  to  us  in  all  things  a  pattern  of  righteous- 
ness. 

Approach  then  and  contemplate  this  perfect  char- 
acter :  God  m  mi/ est  in  the  flc&h  ! 

Having  di;rob,d  himself  of  the  splendors  of  the 
Deity,  and  descended  from  the  ii  ansions  of  immor- 
taUty  ;  whether  we  behold  him,  the  babe  at  Bethle- 
hem, the  man  of  sorrows  a  Geth.>emine,  or  the  suf- 
fering  victim  of  the  wrath  of  God  on  Calvaiy,  his 
conduct  alike  enforces  on  us,  a  life  of  practical 
benevolence.     Indeed,  all  his   intervening  toils,  in- 


55 

structions  and  labors,  bear  a  similar  complexion,  and 
speak  a  similar  language.  It  is  said  concerning  him, 
that  he  went  about  doing  good. 

The  darkness  and  distress  which  then  prevailed  on 
every  side,  courted  his  presence  and  demanded,  in 
different  directions,  a  portion  of  his  time.  Accord- 
ino-lv,  Avhen  he  had  healed  the  sick,  cast  out  devils, 
and  preached  the  doctrine  of  his  kingdom,  in  one 
city,  he  departed  to  another  ;  where  he  repeated  the 
same  acts  of  benevolence,  and  published  the  same 
doctrines  of  life.  And,  though  the  principal  cities 
afforded  a  larger  theatre  for  his  usefulness,  and  claim- 
ed a  larger  portion  of  his  munificence,  he  did  not 
overlook  the  little  village,  and  condescended  to  honor 
and  bless  even  the  very  cottage  by  his  pres- 
ence. 

Sometimes  we  behold  him  in  the  capital,  some- 
times in  its  suburbs,  and  sometimes  travelling 
through  the  country  round  about.  He  refused  no 
hardships  ;  he  shrunk  from  no  fatigue  whicli 
might  promote  the  happiness  or  alleviate  the  miseries 
of  the  forlorn  and  wretched  beings  he  came  to  save- 
His  progress  through  life,  was  marked  with  expres- 
sions of  mercy,  and  the  very  p  ths  he  trod,  were 
thronged  by  hapless  sufferers,  asking  instruction,  or 
applying  for  healing  from  their  maladies.  In  his 
retinue,  you  might  behold,  not  the  glittering  cour 
tier,  not  the  fawning  sycophant,  but  the  blind,  the 
deaf  and  the  diseased,  soliciting  mercy  or  returning 
thanks  for  mercy  received.  Yes  ;  there  you  might 
see  the  lame  man  leap  as  the  hart,  and  hear  the 
tongue  of  the  dumb  man  sing  ! 


56 

As  this  illustrious  Personage  approached  that 
dreadful  catastrophe  which  terminated  his  ministry, 
the  visible  splendor  of  his  benevolence  encreas- 
ed. 

On  the  last  sad  evening  before  he  was  offered  up,, 
more  affected  with  the  w^nts  of  his  disciples  thau 
with  the  miseries  which  awaited  himself,  he  spent  his 
time  in  fortifying  their  minds,  and  in  supplicating  his 
Father  in  their  behalf.  Just  parting  from  them,  and 
moved  with  the  tenderest  affection  towards  them,  he 
says,  "Let  not  your  hearts  be  troubled  ;  ye  believe  in 
God,  believe  also  in  me."  And  having  said  this,  look 
ing  to  heaven,  he  adds,  "  And  now  holy  Father,  I  am 
no  more  in  the  w^orld,  but  these  are  in  the  world, 
keep  through  thine  own  name  those  which  thou  hast 
given  me,  that  they  may  be  one,  even  as  we  are." 

Immediately  after  this  he  went  forth  to  Gethse- 
mine,  and  from  thence  to  Calvary;  where,  fastened 
to  a  cross,  contending  with  the  terrors  of  avenging 
justice,  and  sinking  under  the  agonies  of  dissolving 
nature,  he  remembers  his  friends  not  only,  but  cast- 
ino*  an  eve  down  on  his  mali2:nant  and  relentless  ene- 
mies  also,  pities  them,  and  presenting  in  their  behalf, 
before  the  throne  of  the  Eternal,  his  blood,  his 
wounds,  and  his  cross,  cries  out,  from  the  bottom 
of  a  heart  overflowing  with  good  will,  Fat/ier,  for- 
give them,  for  they  knoiv  not  what  they  do  ! And 

does  this  illustrious  example  furnish  no  motive  to 
the  practice  of  benevolence  ? 

Though  it  \vould  not  be  the  duty  of  all  to  travel 
from  place  to  place,  as  Jesus  did;    and  though  it 


57 

v;6uld  be  in  the  power  of  none  to  controul  the  dis- 
eases .vhich  he  controuled,  or  to  distribute  the  boun- 
ties 'vhi::h  he  distributed  ;  yet  ought  not  you,  and 
all  men,  to  be  followers  of  him  as  dear  children  ? 

Each  of  you  is  able  to  do  something  to  glorify 
God,  to  alleviate  the  miseries,  and  promote  the  hap- 
piness  of  man.  Let  then,  at  all  times,  and  on  ail 
occasions,  your  conversation  be  such  as  becometh 
godliness,  and  your  example  adorn  the  doctrine  of 
God  our  Saviour. 

Can  any  employment  be  so  agreeable  to  a  benevoj 
lent  mind,  or  so  congenial  to  the  spirit  of  Christianity, 
as  that  of  doing  good  ?  Go  then,  sympathize  with 
the  mourner  ;  open  the  hand  of  charity  to  the  needy, 
and  recommend  to  Jesus,  those  who,  weary  and 
heavy  laden,  wander  in  the  deserts  of  Hermon,  and 
pour  o.it  their  complaints  upon  the  hill  of  Mizar. 

Thus  Job  spent  the  season  of  his  prosperity.  "  I 
was  eyes,"  says  he  "to  the  bhnd,  and  feet  was  1  to 
the  lame.  I  was  a  f.ither  to  the  poor,  and  the  cause 
which  I  knew  not,  I  searched  out.  I'he  stranger 
did  not  lodge  in  the  streets,  but  I  opened  my  door 
imto  the  traveller." 

To  the  character  of  Deity,  add 

The  Precepts  of  his  Law. 

*'  If  thy  brother  be  waxen  poor,  (these  hearer,  are 
the  words  of  hinl  who  created  both  thee  and  thy 
brothe' )  ff  thy  brother  be  waxen  poor,  then  shalt 
thou  relieve  him  that  he  may  live.     Thou  shalt  not 


5g 

harden  thine  heart,  nor  shut  thine  hand  against  thy 
poor  brother :  but  thou  shait  open  thine  hand  wide  unto 
him,  and  shalt  surely  lend  him  sufficient  for  his  need 
in  that  which  he  wanteth.  The  poor  shall  never 
cease  out  of  the  land,  therefore  I  COMMAND  thee, 
saith  the  Lord  Almighty." 

To  the  precepts  of  the  law,  add 

The  promises  and  benedictions  of   the 
Gospel. 

"  He  that  hath  mercy  on  the  poor,  happy  is  he.  He 
that  hath  a  bountiful  eye  blessed  is  he.  If  thou  draw 
out  thy  soul  to  the  hungry,  and  satisfy  the  afflicted 
soul,  then  shall  thy  light  arise  in  obscurity.  Whoso- 
ever shall  give  unto  one  of  these  little  ones  a  cup  of 
cold  water  only  in  the  name  of  a  disciple,  he  shall  in 
no  wise  loose  his  reward.  He  that  hath  pity  on  the 
poor,  lendethto  the  Lord,  and  that  which  he  hath  giv- 
en will  HE  pay  him  again."  My  God  !  what  a  pow- 
erful incentive  to  charity. 

Jesus  Christ  becomes  the  representative  of  the  poor; 
takes  upon  himself  their  infirmities,  and  pledges  his 
veracity  to  repay  all  who  minister  to  their  wants.  It 
i^  not  the  poor  therefore,  but  Jesus  Christ,  whom  we 
deny  when  we  withhold  our  charities. 

Were  Jesus  Christ  to  descend  from  the  realms  of 
the  blessed,  accompanied  by  cherubim —seraphim 
— angels,  mighty  in  strength  and  terrible  in  majesty — 
by  thrones,  by  dominions,  by  principalities  and  pow- 
ers, solicting  a  moity  of  our  possessions,  and  at  the 


59 

same  time  pointing  to  the  heavens  and  opening  the 
treasures  of  immortality  to  our  view — should  he 
promise  to  repay  there,  with  infinite  increase,  our 
kindness,  who  of  us  would  shut  his  hand  or  harden 
his  heart  against  his  Saviour  ?  No  one  :  a  universal 
emulation  would  prevail  among  us  ;  even  avarice 
would  unlock  its  horded  treasures,  and  oppression 
bring  its  illgotten  gain,  and  lay  it  at  the  feet  of 
Jesus. 

But  the  Saviour  chooses  not  this  method. — Gifts 
thus  extorted  would  be  doubtful  evidences  of  our 
love.  The  splendor  of  such  an  appearance  might 
corrupt  the  motives  of  friends,  and  dazzle  even  ene- 
mies into  momentary  liberalit}^  That  he  may  prove 
your  charity  and  test  the  sincerity  of  your  love  there- 
fore, forlorn  and  wretched,  emaciated  with  sickness, 
palsied  with  age,  and  covered  with  rags.... he  comes 
forth  from  cottagcii  and  cabins,  in  the  person  of  the 
poor,  and  stretching  forth  his  trembling  hand  to  you, 
his  desciples,  asks  alms.  Christians  !  deny  him  i  you 
can.  You  cannot  deny  him.  But  to  those  who  can, 
I  add,  that  the  days  of  his  humiliation,  even  in  this 
■sense,  will  not  last  for  ever. 

Presently,  he,  w]io  now  friendless  and  wretched,  to 
the  eye  of  our  mcrcj^,  unolds  h  is  miseries,  will  appear 
in  a  different  form — appear,  having  laid  aside  the  rags 
of  beggary,  and  put  on  robes  of  royalty,  in  tre- 
mendous majesty,  and  send  forth  judgment  unto 
victory. 

Then  the  poor  in  whose  behalf  he  now  asks  chari- 
ty, congregated  before  his  throne,  sliall  stand  in  judg- 


60 

ment  together  with  their  benefactors.  To  whom,  in 
the  presence  of  God,  of  angels  and  3f  men,  he  shall 
say,  "  Come,  ye  blessed  of  my  Father,  inherit  the  king- 
dom  prepared  for  you  from  the  found  ition  of  the 
world.  For  I  was  an  hungred,  and  ye  gave  me  meat : 
I  was  thirsty,  and  ye  gJ^ve  me  drink  :  I  was  a  stran- 
ger, and  ye  took  me  in  :  naked,  and  ye  clothed  me  : 
I  was  sick,  and  ye  visited  me  :  I  was  in  prison,  and  yc 
came  unto  me."  And  when  the  righteous  shall  ask. 
Lord,  when  saw  we  thee  an  hungred,  or  thirsty,  or  a 
stranger,  or  naked,  or  sick,  qr  in  prison,  and  minister- 
ed unto  thee  ?  Pointing  to  the  poor  who  stand  be- 
fore him,  he  shall  answer,  "  In  as  much  as  ye  have  done 
it  unto  one  of  rhe  least  of  these  my  disciples,  ye  have 
done  it  unto  me."  Infinite  condescenbion  I  And  can 
the  callous  heart  of  man  be  insensible  to  such  a  mov- 
ing, persuasive  and  glorious  motive  ?  Almighty 
God  !  kindle  in  our  bosoms  genuine  pity  for  the  poor 
now,  that  on  that  august  day,  we  may  recieve  thine 
eternal  benediction. 

From  the  promises  and  benedictions  of  the  gospel, 
turn  your  attention  to 

The  example  of  the  SaintSo 

Tlie  conduct  of  Job,  memorable  for  his  charitlesi, 
has  already  been  noticed.  In  addition  to  this  need  I 
remind  you  of  the  widow  of  Zarepta  ?  who,  having 
only  a  handful  of  meal  in  a  barrel,  and  a  little  oil  in  a 
cruise,  for  herself  and  her  son;  though  in  the  midst 
of  famire,  divided,  nobiy  divided,  this,  her  last  morsel, 
with  the  famished  prophet.     And  need  1  also  remind 


61 

you  how  her  liberality  was  rewarded  ?  For  her  barrel 
of  me  1  did  not  waste,  nor  did  her  cruise  of  oil  fail, 
till  the  Lord  sent  rain,  and  removed  famine  from 
the  earth. 

Need  I  remind  you  of  the  poor  widow  who  cast 
two  mites  into  the  treasury  ?  singular  mag'  animity  1 
for  it  was  all  her  living!  Or,  of  her  who  poured  the 
box  of  ointment  upon  the  feet  of  Jesus,  and  pouring 
it  on  them  perfumed  her  own  memory,  and  erecte  to 
her  own  praise,  a  monument  more  lasting  than  the 
pyramids  of  Egypt.  For  these,  impaired  by  time, 
have  crumbled  down,  and  buried  in  their  ruins  the 
names  and  the  achievements  of  those  who  founded 
them  :  But  wherever  the  gospel  is  preached,  or  shall 
be  preached,  till  the  heavens  be  no  more,  her  act  of 
kindness  unto  Jesus  shall  be  published  as  a  memorial 
of  her. 

Need  I  remind  you  of  the  conduct  of  Martha,  who 
again  and  ag  tin.  received  the  S  ivior  into  her  house, 
and  freely  entertained  him  and  all  who  accompanied 
him  ?  Do  you  deem  the  conduct  of  Martha  laudable, 
in  opening  her  doors  to  the  Son  of  David  ?  Do  you 
feel  as  though  you  would  emulate  her  hospitality  had 
you  an  opportunity  ?  And  why  have  you  not  ?  True* 
3'^our  Lord  in  person  needs  not  your  kindnesses.  The 
days  of  his  humiliation  and  poverty  are  ended,  and 
the  heavens  have  received  him  into  glory.  But  the 
poor  remain  on  the  earth.  These,  if  they  be  pious, 
are  his  friends ;  and  he  respects  a  kindness  done  unto 
them  as  done  unto  himself. 


62 

To  mention  no  more  instances  from  the  scriptures^ 
examples  to  our  purpose  are  not  wanting  in  the  his- 
tories of  primitive  times.  In  the  better  days  of 
Christianity,  a  noble  emulation  prevailed  both  among 
individuals  and  churches  in  their  attention  to  the  poor 
and  to  die  sick.  To  minister  to  the  latter,  more  than 
six  hundred  persons  were  employed  by  the  Christ- 
ians of  Mexandria  at  one  time,  as  appears  from  a  law 
in  the  Theodosian  code.  When  the  plague  ravaged 
Egypt,  says  Euscbius,  "  Many  of  our  brethren  neg- 
lecting their  own  healths  have  brought  upon  them- 
selves the  misfortunes  and  maladies  of  others.  Who 
after  having  held  in  their  arms  the  dying  saints,  after 
having  closed  their  eyes,  washed  and  adorned  them, 
and  carried  them  on  their  shoulders  to  their  graves, 
have  been  glad  themselves  to  rcceive  the  same  kind 
ofiices  from  others  imitating  their  zeal  and  their 
charity." 

Was  the  kindness  of  primitive  Christians  to  their 
sick  great  ?  ■.  heir  bounty  to  the  poor  was  no  less 
so.  "  Among  how  many  widows  and  orphans," 
says  Chrysostom,  *'  does  tliis  church  distribute  char- 
ity. The  iiumb>  r  on  the  catalogue  is  three  thousand, 
not  to  mention  extraordinary  assistances  given  to 
people  sick  in  hospitals,  strangers,  leprous  persons, 
servants  of  the  church,  and  many  other  persons, 
whose  necessities  oblige  them  to  ask  and  who  every 
day  receive  both  food  and  raiment." 

Nor  were  these  expenses,  enormous  as  they  were, 
incurred  with  reluctance.  On  the  contrary  they  ex- 
ulted in  their  charities.     Witness  the  conduct  of  the 


63 

venerable  man,  representing  the  whole  church  at 
Rome,  who,  when  Decius  imperiously  demanded  of 
them  their  treasures,  collecting  the  poor,  the  maimed, 
the  blind  and  the  sick,  who  received  daily  the  means 
of  subsistence  from  that  church,  and  pointing  to 
this  group  of  wretched  sufferers,  said,  "  These  are 
our  riches,  these  our  revenue  and  treasure."     Wit- 

iiess  the  conduct but  I  forbear  to  add.       Time 

would  fail  me  to  do  justice  to  tliis  article  ;  and  the 
instances  already  mentioned  are  enough  and  mere 
than  enough,  to  convince  us  that  we  are  fai"  behind 
the  primitive   saints  in   practical   charity. 

Lastly — cmisider  the  sensible  pleasure  which  accoin- 
panies^  or  vjhich  may  result  from  acts  0  5  Christ- 
ian  CH.AniTY. 

Virtue  can-ies  with  it  its  own  reward  :  and  the 
felicities  which  accompany  a  holy,  operative  lo\e,  are 
known  to  all  who  cherish  it.  A  secret  joy  diPAises 
itself  through  that  bosom  which  expands  witii 
sympathetic  charity  ;  which  sighs  for  the  relief  of 
human  misery.  Never  does  man  feel  a  nobler 
ekvation,  or  experience  a  more  sublim.e  or  refined 
pleasure,  than  when  wiping  the  failing  tear  from  the 
cheek  of  sorrow,  binding  up  the  broken  hearted,  and 
bearing  with  godlike  arm  the  cup  of  consolation 
to  the  sons  of  woe. 

But  if  there  be  so  much  pleasure  in  acts  of  charity 
now,  what  pleasure  shall  they  not  occasion  to  you, 
O  believer  !  when,  entering  the  world  of  spirits, 
and  opening  your   eyes   upon    the    family    of  the 


64 

blessed,  you  shall  see  in  that  family  some  clothed 
in  xvhke  robes  and  having  palms  hi  their  hands^  to 
whom  you  had  once  ministered  upon  a  bed  of  sor- 
row ?  Will  you  hen  grudge  your  love  to  them, 
when  you  shall  see  how  Jesus  loved  them  ? 

Recognizing  you-  departing  spirits,  remembering 
your  former  kindnesses,  and  bending  from  the 
thrones,  on  which  grace  hath  placed  them,  they  shall 
descend  to  meet  you  ;  they  shall  become  your 
convoys  back  to  glory :  When  approaching  the 
throne  of  your  Redeemer,  they  shall  say,  in  youf 
behalf,  these  are  the  righteous,  who  softened  our 
sorrows  on  the  earth — who  closed  our  dying  eyes  ; 
and  then,  receiving  to  their  embrace,  our  hapless 
offspring,  in  their  own  bosoms  nurtured  them  foi' 
thee.  'Ihis  v/ill  be  indeed.  Christians,  a  moment 
o-f  religious  extacy  !  A  moment,  did  I  say  ?  An 
eternity- --whichy  like  the  duration  of  God,  will 
never  pass  away  ! — I  might  here  add,  that  as  charity- 
prepares  for  the  departing  spirit  the  most  refined 
and  lasting  joy,  so  it  secures  to  the  mouldering  body 
the  most  enviable  honors. 

How  sweetly  must  they  sleep  whose  memories 
are  embalmed  in  the  widow's  bosom,  and  whose 
graves  are  bedewed  by  the  orphan's  tears.  Let 
me  die  the  deatJi  of  the  righteous^  and  let  my  last 
end  be  like  his.  Happy  the  man  whose  funeral 
honors  consist  i;i  the  sighs  and  tears  of  the  poor 
whom  he  has  relieved,  the  vicious  whom  he  has 
reclaimed,  and  the  disconsolate  whom  he  has  com- 


65 

forted  with  the  promises  of  Jesus. — Let  these  be 
the  monuments  of  my  fa  iie — Let  these,  standing 
bv'  mi:ie  urn,  and  pointing  to  mine  ashes,  tell  the 
pa^>in'^  traveller,  There  lies  the  man,  who,  when 
I  w  o  hni',^ry,  fed  me  ;  when  I  was  naked  clothed 
me  ;  aad  <.vh^n.  I  wandered  fr o  n  virtue,  pouited  my 
erring  feet  in  the  homeward  way. 

But  I  must  give  no  further  scope  unto  my  feelings. 
The  subject  expands — and  expands  itself  before  me. 
I  pai.se  therefore.... not  because  other  motives  to 
ch  irity  are  wanting,  but  because  I  am  confident, 
tha:  if  these  are  not  effectual,  none  which  I  can  urge 
will  be  so. 

Do  you  ask,  why  we  have  even  so  far  pressed  this 
d  ty  ?  Why  ? — on  account  of  its  importance. 
What  might  not  be  done,  were  mankind  disposed 
to  co-operate  for  the  relief  of  human  misery  ?  Were 
half  the  naias  taken---were  half  the  treasures  expend- 
ed in  feeding  the  hungry,  in  clothing  the  naked, 
and  in  relieving  the  distressed,  which  are  now 
expended  in  raising  armies  and  equipping  fleets  for 
the  encrease  of  misery,  the  extension  of  wretch- 
edness, and  the  destruction  of  man  ;  how  different 
would  the  face  of  things  appear  ?  The  reaj)On  why 
society  is  so  cold  a.r.d  lifeless,  not  to  say  so  san- 
guinary and  malignant,  is  that  so  few  possess  ihe 
charity  of  the  gospel — and  those  few  in  so  feeble 
and  imperfect  a  degree.  Selfishness  is  the  bane  of 
human  happiness.  And  shall  Christians — Chris- 
tians,  who  worship  that   God   who  gave  his  Son; 

9 


66 

that  Jesus  who  gave  himseh'",  ^vliile  they  xvcre  yet 
enemies,  to  die  for  them,  be  chargeable  with  this 
sordid  vice  ?  My  brethren,  let  the  liberality  of 
this  evening  free  you  from  this  scandal,  and  wipe 
away  from  this  assembly  so  shameful  a  reproach. 

That  there  are  in  this  city  a  great  number  of 
suffering  and  friendless  poor,  who  have  been  during 
this  inclement  winter,  and  who  still  are  supported 
by  charity,  is  known  to  you  all.  I  recall  my  wcrds 
— Surrounded  with  plenty  and  living  in  affluence 
and  splendor,  many  of  you  do  not  know  this.  It  is 
however  a  fact — and  a  fact  which  your  physicians 
and  ministers,  conversant  by  their  profession  with 
places  of  affliction,  will  unanimously  attest. 

Would  you  accompany  me,  I  could  conduct  you 
within  this  city  and  its  suburbs,  to  scenes  of  poverty 
and  wretchedness,  the  sight  of  which  only  w^ould 
chill  your  blood. — Yes,  I  could  show  you  in  kitch- 
ens, cold  and  damp,  or  in  half  covered  cottages, 
into  which  the  snow  descends,  and  through  whicii 
howls  the  wintry  blast,  large  families,  destitute  of 
fuel  ;  destitute  of  food  ;  and  almost  destitute  of 
clothes  and  covering.— There  too,  I  could  show 
you  a  father,  a  mother,  or  a  child,  languishing  and 
dying,  with  a  thousand  circumstances  to  aggravate, 
and  scarcely  one.  Great  God  1  unless  it  be  tliy 
sovereignty,  to  mitigate  their  sorrows  ! 

Among  thes^  poor  and  pitiable  families,  I  could 
show  you  some,  who  once  were  affluent  and  honor* 
•able.      But  adversity  pursued  and  overtook  them.* 


67 

Ldss  succeeded  to  loss — misfortune  followed  misfor-' 
tune,  till  from  the  abundance  of  princely  life  they 
are  reduced  to  beggery. 

You  will  say  that  these  poor  are  provided  for  by 
law.  But  do  you  know  what  that  provision  is  ?  How 
inadequate,  how  difficult  to  be  obtained,  and  how 
often  interrupted  in  its  course  ? 

The  poor-masters,  perhaps,  do  all  they  can. 
Their  means  are  comparati\^ely  small,  and  their  in- 
fluence necessarily  circumscribed.  And  can  any 
man  in  his  senses  suppose  that  a  family,  where  the 
parent  or  parents  are  sick,  and  thus  cut  off  from  eve- 
ry mean  of  su|)plying  their  own  wants — I  say,  can 
any  man  in  his  senses  suppose,  that  a  family  thus  situ- 
ated, and  having  no  other  resource,  can  possibly  sub- 
sist upon  the  scanty  pittance  customarily  allowed  to 
the  poor  ?  My  God  I  it  would  not  even  buy  fuel  to 
warm  and  a  taper  to  light  the  cabin  where  they  lan- 
guish ;  and  where,  without  your  charity,  they  must 
die ! — How  then  do  they  subsist  ? — How  ? — they  con- 
verse with  sorrow,  with  sighs,  and  with  tears thcv 

suffer  from  hunger,  from  nakedness,  from  cold  ;  un- 
der these  complicated  miseries  they  fall  sick.  Bv 
sickness  their  miseries  are  encreased,  and  after  lino-er- 
ing  a  few  days  they  die,  unless  a  charitable  neighbor 
pities  and  interposes. 

Notwithstanding  the  legal  provision  for  the  poor 
on  which  you  rely,  I  have  myself  seen  even  females, 
and  not  those  wretched  outcasts  from  society  op 
Whose  miseries  humanity  itself  will  scarcely  deig:. 


§8 

to  look — but  the  mother  of  a  little  family,  fors  a^ien, 
friendless,  emacia  ed  vvi-h  sickness,  lying  upon  a 
bed  of  straw,  and  even  expiring  without  a  hand 
to  minister  to  her  last  wants,  or  even  to  close  her 
dying  eyes ! 

Sickness  and  death  bring  sorrow,  unutterable 
sorrow,  whe;e  they  enter.  Yes  ;  my  heart  still 
bleeding*  with  the  wounds  which  a  righteous 
God  hath  lately  inflicted  on  it,  attests  this  melan- 
choly truth.  But  if  these  sorrows  are  so  poignant 
when  endured  in  the  midst  of  plenty,  and  surrounHed 
by  affectionate  and  sympathizing  friends,  vieing  with 
each  other  in  alleviating  the  sujfferer's  pains,  and 
solacing  the  mourner's  woe.  Great  God  !  what  ex- 
cess of  bitterness  must  they  not  drink  from  the 
cup  of  thy  chastisements,  who  languish  and  expire,  or 
who  see  their  friends  languish  and  expire  on  a  bed  of 
want,  and  soliciting,  by  expressive  sighs  and  groans, 
relief  from  an  unpitying  world,  in  vain  ! 

Imagine  such  a  situation,  and  you  may  form  some 
idea  of  the  misery  for  the  relief  of  which  we  plead, 
I  say  imagine  such  a  situation  :  and  such  a  situation 
is  not  imaginary,  it  has  existed  ;  it  exists  now, 
and  it  will  exist  hereafter,  unless  nfeasures  more 
effectual  are  iidopted  to  succor  and  relieve  our  poor- 
Think  not  that  this  is  fancy.     Whoever  of  you 


*  Mr?.  NoTT,  the  corsort  of  the  Author,  departed  this  life  on 
"Saturd^AV  momii-g,  and  was  intLrc  d  on  Sabbath  evening^j  9ne  week  pre* 
c<*.ding  the  delivery  of  this  discourse. 


69 

think  so,  follow  me  and  I  will  conduct  you  to  the 
place  where  all  that  I  have  said,  or  shall  say,  exists  in 
real  life.  Yes,  I  will  conduct  you  to  the  dismal  ha- 
bitation, and  you  shall  ask  the  daughter  of  sorrow, 
who  dwells  there,  why  her  bosom  throbs  with  sighs, 
and  why  her  eyes  arc  suffused  with  tears  ?  And  she 
will  tell  you,  that  her  name  is  zvidorv,  that  her 
only  son  Imguiahes  unprovided  for,  and  that  her 
hapless  daughters  have  no  bread* 

Once  she  was  cheerful  :  once  she  had  a  part- 
ner, to  Avhom  she  imparted  her  sorrows  and  with 
whom  she  reciprocated  her  joys.  But  her  "  lover 
and  her  friend  have  been  put  far  from  her,  and  her  ac- 
quaintance into  utter  darkness. "  Again  her  domestic 
circle  is  invaded.  The  son  of  her  hopes  is  closing 
his  eyes  in  death  :  in  addition  to  this,  poverty, 
pinching  poAcrty,  oppresses  her,  and  the  cries  of  her 
famished  orphans  —  cries  which  a  helpless  mother 
cannot  relieve,  pierce  her  heart — "  1  herefore  is  her 
countenance  sad  and  therefore  are  her  eyes  red  with 
weeping." 

Bereaved,  recently,  of  the  dear  companion  of  my 
youth,  surrounded  by  lisping  infancy,*  which 
needs  and  will  long  need  a  mother's  fostering  care, 
still  affected  by  those  mournful  scenes  which  these 
sadf     emblems    revive     before     me,    I     can    with 


*  Mrs.  NoTT  left  behind  her  four  little  children,  the  oldest  six 
years,  and  the  youngest  only  three  months  old. 

f  Alluding  to  the  mournful  drapery  hung  around  the  pew  of  the 
Author,  by  the  Ladies,  in  testimony  of  their  respect,  tor  his  disceased 
partner. 


70 

peculiar  sensibility  plead  tlie  widow's  and  the  or? 
phan's  cause.  And  can  you  whose  generous  hearts 
spontaneously  overflow  with  sympathy  to  him  who 
now  addresses  you,  be  insensible  to  the  wants,  and 
sighs,  and  sorrows  of  those  in  whose  behalf  he  pleads  ? 
No  ;  you  cannot.  I  feel  a  confidence  that  you  will 
contribute,  cheerfully  and  liberally,  to  relieve 
them. 

Think  not  that  liberal  contributions  Vv^ill  favor 
idleness  or  lead  to  beggary.  We  ask  not  alms  for 
profuse  or  general  distribution.  We  solicit  a  little 
duly  of  that  abundance  which  God  has  given  you. 
And  for  what  ?  To  procure  a  staff  for  the  old  man — 
a  bit  of  bread  for  the  widow,  and  a  nurse  to  tend  the 
infant,  to  soften  the  pillow  and  to  close  the  eyes  of  the 
forsaken  and  dying  mother  !  These  are  the  purposes 
for  which  we  solicit  j'^our  charity  and  to  which, 
we  pledge  ourselves,  it  will  be  sacredly  applied  > 
I  retract  what  I  have  said — you  need  not  this  pledge, 
for  the  partners  of  your  bosoms  will  dispense  it. 

The  members  of  this  society,  which  is  to  be  the 
depository  of  your  bounty,  spread  as  they  are  over 
every  part  of  the  city,  have  the  poor  immediately  un- 
der their  eye.  In  addition  to  this,  their  managers 
traverse  its  different  wards,  explore  in  person  the 
habitations  of  the  sick  and  the  poor,  and  take' the  ac- 
tual  dimensions  of  their  misery. 

Thus  situated,  they  can  discriminate  :  they  do  dis^ 
criminate.  And  though  some  few  instances  of  una- 
Toidable  imposition  may  have  occurred,  I  presume, 


71 

generally,  and  I  speak  from  what  I  have  seen,  ihav: 
the  relief  they  have  bestowed  has  been  timely  and  ap- 
portioned with  discretion. 

If  wc  withhold  our  support  from  this  association, 
to  what  one  shall  we  give  it  ?  Could  any  have  been 
founded  on  better  principles,  or  directed  to  nobler 
ends?  Sympathizing  hum.mity,  always  amiable,  ap- 
pears still  more  so  when  invested  with  the  charms  of 
female  loveliness.  Invested  v/ith  these  charms,  it  in- 
displayed  in  this  society  ;  and  a  more  lovely  or  com- 
manding OBJECT  never  presented  itself  before  you. 
For  what  object  could  have  been  more  lovely  or  com- 
manding, in  a  city  where  party  reigns,  and  where  the 
bands  of  social  intercourse  in  one  sex,  are  by  political 
controversy  almost  sundered,  than  an  extensive  as- 
semblage of  disinterested  females— an  assemblage  of 
mothers  and  daughters  :  of  individuals  cf  different 
habits  and  sentiments,  both  political  and  relirnous. 
uniting  and  harmoniously  co-operating  like  a  biuid  o^' 
sisters,  for  the  relief  of  human  misery.  Whose  in- 
fluence has  been  like  the  influence  of  the  morninf^". 

At  whose  approach  tlie  horrors  of  poverty  vanisli, 
and  the  countenance  brightens  which  was  overspread 
v/ith  sorrov/.  Whose  kindness,  the  reviving  sick  ae- 
knovv^ledge  with  gratitude,  and  on  whose  heads  o^~- 
phan  infancy,  delivered  from  wretchedness,  and  made 
happy  by  their  bounty,  heaps  its  blessings. 

With  what  motives  this  association  has  been  form- 
ed, God  knows ;  and  he  also  knows,  that  if  with 
proper  ones,  the  members  will  not  lose  their  re- 
^4-ard. 


T2 

Be  this  as  it  may,  I  rejoice  at  the  rise  and  progress 
of  an  institution  apparently  so  bentvojent,  so  honor- 
able tj  this  city,  and  so  conducive  to  the  happiness 
of  those  who  need  our  charity  and  our  sympathy. — 
Yes,  I  rejoice,  that  when  visiting  friendless  and  be- 
reaved families,  when  j^earning  with  pity  over  their 
miseries,  I  can  point  them  to  a  SOC'PITY  which 
spreads  its  arms  to  receive  them,  and  from  which 
they  will  receive  prompt,  if  not  adequate  relief — I  say 
prompt,  for,  by  some  strange  embarrassment  in  the 
public  funds  allotted  to  the  poor,  too  often  the  pittance 
intended  to  be  bestowed,  is  delayed — and  delayed — 
and  delayed — till  the  sufferer  dies,  and  needs  not 
charity,  unless  it  be  to  procure  a  shroud  to  wrap 
him  in. 

But  the  design  of  this  society  is  not  merely  the  re- 
lief of  misery,  in  the  forms  which  have  b  en  already 
mentioned.  They  have  in  view  particularly,  the  ed- 
ucation of  the  rising  generation.  Numbers,  during 
the  past  year,  who  would  otherwise  have  been  utter- 
ly neglected,  have  through  their  munificence,  been 
kept  at  school,  where  every  attention  has  been  paid 
both  to  their  manners  and  their  mora's. 

These  are  only  the  beginnings  of  their  labors  of 
love.  They  contemplate,  and  they  ask  your  aid,  to 
enable  them,  together  with  other  objects,  to  erect  a 
building,  where  poor  and  orphan  female  children, 
whose  age  and  whose  wants  ought  to  recommend 
them  to  our  sympathy,  may  be  collected,  instructed 
and  nurtured  for  usefulness  and  piety,  under  their  im- 
mediate care. 


73 

Some  of  you  will  say,  perhaps,  The  wants  of  the 
poor  are  numerous  and  perpetual.  Be  it  so :  And 
is  not  this  a  reason  why  your  charity  should  be  libe- 
ral and  perpetual  also  ?  Because  there  are  many 
poor,  will  you  leave  them  to  languish  and  die  ?  Be- 
cause their  wants  are  numerous  and  claim  much,  do 
you  resolve  to  bestow  little  ?  Is  this  the  resolution 
of  the  household  of  faith !  Are  these  the  feelings 
of  hearts,  softened  by  grace,  and  fall  of  the  hopes 
of  immortality  ! 

Ah !  my  brethren,  complain  not  of  the  number 
of  tlie  poor,  or  of  their  wants.  Know  you  not  who 
it  was  that  said,  The  poor  ye  shall  always  have  witk 
you.  Jesus,  Master,  I  thank  thee  for  this  promise, 
that  in  the  persons  of  the  poor  I  may  testify  my 
respect  for  thee  ! 

The  poor  we  have  said,  particularly  the  pious  poor, 
are  the  family  of  Jesus.  And  this  know,  if  he  de- 
mands your  charity  for  their  support  it  is  not  because 
he  needs  it.  The  treasures  of  the  universe  are  his 
own  and  at  his  disposal.  He  can  supply  their  wants 
in  a  thousand  ways.  Let  him  but  speak,  "  And  the 
earth  shall  bring  forth  salvation,  the  mountains  drop 
down  new  wine,  and  the  hills  flow  with  milk  !" — I  re- 
peat it  therefore,  though  he  demands  your  charities,  he 
needs  them  not — Why  then  does  he  demand  them  ? 
Because  he  loves  you.  He  knows  it  is  better  to  give 
than  to  receive.  He  furnishes  you  therefore  with 
treasures^ — then  commands  you  to  dispense  those 
treasures  among  the     miserable   objects  whom  he 

10 


74 

places  around  you.  And  he  does  this  that  he  may  fnr- 
nish  you  with  an  opportunity,  practically,  of  resem- 
bling HIM,  who  in  the  dispensation  of  boundless 
riches,  is  good  and  daes  good,  ajid  whose  tender  mercies 
are  over  ail  his  works. 

The  opportunity,  however,  of  acting  thus  nobly 
with  respect  to  the  relief  of  misery,  is  very  short. 
Can  you  want  evidence  of  this  ?  The  changes  daily 
taking  place  around  you  furnish  it.  One  who  a  few 
days  since  dispensed  these  charities. is  now  no  more.* 
The  cold  earth  lies  upon  her  bosom  !  The  darkness 
of  the  grave  hides  from  her  eye  the  miseries  of  the 
poor,  and  its  silence  shuts  from  her  ear  the  widow's 
and  the  orphan's  sigh  !  In  behalf  of  these  her  last 
services  were  performed.  Her  stewardship  is  now 
ended.  She  is  gone  to  God,  to  render  to  him  an  ac- 
count of  it ;  and  her  bereaved  children  need,  and  arc 
receiving  from  others  in  kindly  reversion,  the  sympa- 
thy she  bestowed. 

Hearer — father — mother  of  a  family,  God  only 
knows  how  soon  this  may  be  your  lot !  Mutable  is 
the  world  !  Misfortune  may  soon  dissipate  the  rich- 
es you  possess,  death  may  suddenly  cut  off  the  life 
which  you  enjoy,  and  your  children  left  dependent 
orphans,  may  be  fed  from  the  charity  which  you 
now  bestow. 


*  Mrs  NoTT  had  been  a  Manager  of  the  Society  fur  ike  relie^o^dis* 
tressed  Women  and  Children  from  the  tLme  of  its  being-  constituted  ;  in 
whicli  capacity  she  rendered  to  the  distressed  her  feeble  services  during 
her  last  illness  anditsigned  her  truut  bv  ckat!-. 


75 

And  is  this  our  situation  ?  And  can  we  knowing  it 
to  be  so,  still  be  slothful  ?  Presently  will  thine  hand, 
palsied  by  death,  be  incapable  of  bestowing  alms — 
thine  eye  closed  in  darkness,  of  pitying  misery — and 
will  thy  bosom  soon,  unfeeling  as  the  clods  that  cover 
it,  cease  to  palpitate  at  the  tale  of  woe  ;  and  canst 
thou  now  shut  up  the  bowels  of  thy  mercy,  or  con- 
tribute with  pa'-simonious  exactness  only,  to  the  re- 
lief of  those  suffering  objects  which  surround  thee  ? 

Hark ! From    the    heavens    a    voice    cryeth, 

*'  Whatsoever  thy  hand  findeth  to  do,  do  it  with  thy 
might,  because  there  is  no  work  nor  device  in  the 
grave  whither  thou  goest."  It  is  the  voice  of  Jesus, 
who  adds,  hearer,  for  thine  encouragement.  Behold  J 
come  quickly y  <ind  my  reward  is  with  me.  Blessed  is 
that  servant  whom,  when  his  Lord  cometh,  he  shall 
find  so  doing. 

Go  then,  ye  collectors  of  the  bounty  of  the  eve- 
ning, and  receive  our  charities.  Go  and  let  us  sec 
who  will  give  unto  the  poor — Pardon  my  mistake. 
I  mean  who  will  lend  unto  the  Lord,  and  in  what 
abundance  they  will  lend.  And  I  pledge  myself— A- 
gain,  whot  am  I  saying  ?  God  pledges  himself,  how- 
ever much  you  may  bestow,  in  faith,  that  he  will  repay 
you  again  good  measure  ^  pressed  doivn,  iliaken  togeth' 
er  and  running  over^  even  everlasting  consolation  will 
he  repay  into  your  bosoms.  Almighty  God  !  give 
us  grace  on  this  occasion  to  act  worthy  of  the  children 
of  such  a  parent,  and  to  thy  name  shall  be  the  glory  . 
in  Christ.    AMEJS. 


./ 

* 


APPENDIX. 


// 


APPENDIX, 


BY    A    FRIEND. 


Mrs.  sally  NOTT,  the  amiable  consort 
of  the  Reverend  Eliphalet  No tt,  and  daughter 
of  the  Reverend  Joel  Benedict,  of  Plainfield  in. 
Connecticut,  was  born  at  Lisbon,  in  said  state,  on 
the  29th  of  August,  1774 ;  and  died,  after  a  linger- 
ing and  doubtful  illness,  at  Ballstown  Springs,  on 
the  9th,  and  was  intered  at  Albany  on  the  10th 
of  March,  1804,  aged  twenty-nine  years  and  six 
months. 

Mrs.  NoTT  was  rather  small  of  stature — her  com- 
plexion was  fair,  her  countenance  expressive,  and  en- 
livened by  an  eye  uncommonly  brilliant,  penetrating, 
and  significant. 

Her  genius  was  sprightly— her  mind  enriched  by 
reading,  and  her  taste  refined  by  a  happy  education. 
In  her  conversation  she  was  unassuming— -in  her 
manners,   artless  and  unaffected. 

In  youth  she  was  vivacious,  and  possessed  a  talent 
for  satire ;  but  a  talent  completely  concealed  be- 
neath the  veil  of  discretion,  in  maturer  years. 


She  was  naturally  open  hearted  ;   seldom  disguis-' 
ed  either  her  feelings  or  her  sentiments  ;  but  on  the 
contrary,   discovered   both  with   a    candor,  which, 
though  it  sometimes  made  her  enemies,  always  en- 
deared her  to  her  friends. 

Her  domestic  virtues  were  examplary.  Industry 
and  economy  were  conspicuous  in  the  care  of  a 
rising  family,  which  care  had  been  for  years,  pre- 
vious to  her  death,  committed  by  her  confiding 
partner,  exclusively  to  herself.  Filial  respect  mark- 
ed her  conduct  to  her  parents— fraternal  affec- 
tion to  her  brethren  and  sisters,  and  conjugal  love 
and  maternal  tenderness,  happily  blended  in  her 
character,  were  displayed  in  a  life  devoted  to  the 
interests  of  her  husband  and  her  offspring. 

As  a  neighbor,  she  was  peaceable  and  obliging  — as 
a  friend,  candid,  sincere  and  affectionate  beyond  mea- 
suie.  Her  heart  knev/  no  guile  ;  and  her  bosom, 
hallowed  sanctuary,  preserved  inviolable  its  sacred 
trusts. 

As  a  sufferer  under  long  and  repeated  sicknesses, 
her  firmness,  fortitude,  and  patience  have  seldom 
been  equalled.  She  submitted  to  the  Divine  rod  with 
cheerful  resignation,  and  was  never  once  heard,  un- 
der its  chatising  stroke,  to  utter  a  murmuring  word- 
As  a  member  of  the  church,  and  as  a  Christian,  her 
conduct  was  such  as  becometh  godliness^  and  her  ex- 
ample adorned  the  doctrine  of  God  our  Saviour. 

For  more  than  a  year  before  her  death  her  friends 

had  observed  that  she  berame  les^;  «;ocial  and  more 


8i 

'  contemplative.  I'^his  probably  resulted  irom  a  pre- 
vailing persuasion  that  she  was  to  die  in  early  life — 
a  persuasion  founded  on  the  obvious  impairs  which 
her  constitution  had  already  suffered.  At  a  very 
early  period  after  her  last  illness  she  forewarned 
her  friends  of  her  approaching  dissolution.  Hopeful 
symptoms,  however,  beguiled  almost  every  ohc  but 
herself;  among  the  most  hopeful  of  which,  was  her 
wonted  cheerfulness  which  accompanied  her  to  the 
end.  Notwithstanding  this  cheerfulness  she  almost 
daily  declared  to  those  around  her  that  she  should  die ; 
often  caused  the  third  part  of  the  39th  Psalm,  as 
paraphrased  by  Watts,  to  be  read  in  het  hearing,  and 
often  solicited  her  partner  to  mingle  his  prayers  with 
hers  before  the  throne  of  mercy,  that  she  might  be 
resigned  and  prepared  for  what  she  was  fully  per- 
suaded would  be  the  event.  While  thus  impercepti- 
bly wasting  away,  all  her  conversation  was  expressive 
of  resignation,  nor  did  she  intimate,  even  to  her 
friends,  any   solicitude  respecting  life. 

With  respect  to  her  actual  preparation  for  death, 
she  always  spoke  with  diffidence.  The  temper,  Iidv/- 
ever,  which  she  manifested,  the  resignation  which 
she  discovered,  and  above  all,  the  uniform  and  ex- 
elusive  dependence  whidi  she  appeared  to  place  on 
Jesus,  the  sinner's  and  tne  sufferer's  friend,  furnished 
more  hopeful  evidence  of  the  reality  of  her  piety, 
than  the  most  confident  assertions  or  even  the  most 
ardent  hopes  could  otherwise  have  furnished. 

On  the  Saturday,  of  the  week  preceding  her  death, 
and  at  a  time  when  the  family  were  assembledv  she 

U 


82 

observed,  as  she  had  frequently  done,  that  she  must 
soon  leave  ,them.  Being  as.ked  whether,^  if  that 
should  be  the  case,  she  were  afraid  to  die  ? — She  re- 
plied,— "  No,  I  am  not  afraid  to  die. —  5  have  not  in- 
deed tliat  full  assurance  I  could  wish. — I  am  sensible, 
that  I  am  a  miserable  sinn'.T — I  have  no  merit  of  my 
ownto  plead  before  God. — My  only  hope  is  built  up- 
on the  righteousness  of  Jesus  Christ. ---I  cast  my- 
self at  his  feet— 1  rely  upon  his  mercy.  W'll  he  dis- 
appoint me  ?   Will  he  let  me  perish  ?  


After  this,  her  decline  was  visible.  On  Tuesday 
preceding  her  death,  she  set  oat  for  Ballstown 
Springs,  and  reached  them  on  Wednesday.  She 
wished  to  be  removed  to  them  as  the  last  expedient, 
though,  as  she  repeatedly  declared,  she  had  no  confi- 
dence in  their  efficacy.  She  endured  the  journey  to 
the  astonishment  of  all  who  were  acquainted  with  her 
condition,  and  the  operation  of  the  waters,  of  which 
she  drank  sparingly,  at  first  appeared  favorable. 

Before  she  left  Albany,  a  partial  dvlirium  was  ob- 
servable— this  encreased,  and  on  Friday  evening,  is- 
sued in  an  almost  total  loss  of  reason.  In  this  situa- 
tion she  continued  till  about  two  o'clock  on  Satur- 
day morning,  v/hen,  nature  being  exhausted,  she  ex- 
pired without  a  sirnggle  and  without  a  groan.  On 
the  same  day,  her  remains  were  removed  to  Albany, 
and  the  day  after  were  intered  in  the  Presbyterian 
buiTing  ground. — Melancholy  sat  upon  the  counte- 
nance of  the  concourse  ^vho  attended  this  solemnity, 


83 

and  every  mark  of  both  public  and  private  respect 
was  paid  unto  her  ashes. — Much  loved  shade! — fare, 
well— Thou  art  absent,  but  not  forgotten— the  widow 
records  thy  kindncss---the  mourner  thy  sympathy, 
and  the  poor  remember  thy  labours  of  love— -A 
thousand  friends,  also,  in  their  bosoms  embalm  thy 
memory,  who,  mingling  their  sorrow's  with  he  sor- 
rows of  thy  family,  and  shedding  te;  rs  of  affection  up- 
on the  cold  sods  vvhioli  cover  thee,  sadly  feel  thine 
absence,  and  mourn  thine  untimely  loss  ! 


i.r 


DISCOURSE, 

DELIVERED    IN    THE 

NORTH  DUTCH  CHURCH, 
IN  THE  CITY  OF  ALBANY, 

OCCASIONED    BT    THE    EVER   TO    BE    LAMENTED 

DEATH 

OF 

JULY  29,  1804. 
BY  ELIPHALET  NOTT,  A.  M. 

PASTOR  OF   THE   PRESBYTERIAN   CHURCH   IN   SAID    CITV  ' 


DISCOURSE. 

II.  SAMUEL,  I,  19. 

HOW  A  RE  THE  MIGHTY  FALLEN  ! 

1  HE  occasion  explains  the  choice  of  my  sub- 
ject. A  subject  on  which  I  enter  in  obedience  to 
your  request.  You  have  assembled  to  express 
your  elegiac  sorrows,  and  sad  and  solemn  weeds 
Qover  you. 

Before  such  an  audience,  and  on  such  an  occa- 
sion,  I  enter  on  the  duty  assigned  me  with  trem- 
bling. Do  not  mistake  my  meaning,  I  tremble 
indeed— not,  however,  through  fear  of  failino-  to 
merit  your  applause  ;  for  what  have  I  to  do  with 
that  when  addressing  the  dying  and  trcadino-  on 
the  ashes  of  the  dead- --Not  through  fear  of  failino- 

o 

justly  to  pourtray  the  character  of  that  p-reat 
man  who  is  at  once  the  theme  of  my  encomium  and 
regret.  He  needs  not  eulogy. — His  work  is  finish- 
ed, and  death  has  removed  him  beyond  my  cen- 
sure, and  I  would  fondly  hope,  through  grace,  above 
my  praise, 


88 

You  will  ask  then,  why  I  tremble?  I  tremble 
to  think  that  I  am  called  to  attack  from  this  place 
a  crime,  the  very  idea  of  which  almost  freezes 
one  with  horror — a  crime  too  which  exists  among 
the  polite  and  polished  orders  of  society,  and 
which  is  accompanied  with  every  aggravation  ;  com- 
mitted with  cool  deliberation — and  openly  in  the 
face  of  day ! 

But  I  have  a  duty  to  perform.  And  difficult 
and  awful  as  that  duty  is,  I  will  not  shrink  from 
it. 

Would  to  God  my  talents  were  adequate  to  the 
occasion.  But  such  as  they  are,  I  devoutly  prof- 
fer them  to  unfold  the  nature  and  counteract  the 
influence  of  that  barbarous  custom,  which,  like  a 
resistless  torrent,  is  undermining  the  foundations 
of  civil  government — breaking  down  the  barriers 
of  social  happiness,  and  sweeping  away  virtue, 
talents  and  domestic  felicity  in  its  desolating 
course. 

Another  and  an  illustrious  character — a  father — a 
general — a  statesman — the  very  man  who  stood  on 
an  eminence  and  without  a  rival  among  hages  and 
heroes,  the  future  hope  of  his  country  in  danger — ■ 
this  man,  yielding  to  the  influence  of  a  custom,  which 
deserves  our  eternal  reprobation,  has  been  brought 
to  an  untimely  end. 

That  the  deaths  of  great  and  useful  men  should 
be  particularly  noticed   is   equally    the    dictate    of 


so 

reason  and  revelation.  The  tears  ©f  Israel  flow- 
ed at  the  decease  of  good  Jos i ah,  and  to  his 
memory  the  funeral  women  chanted  the  solemn 
dirge. 

But  neither  examples  nor  arguments  are  neces- 
sary to  wake  the  sympathies  of  a  grateful  people 
on  such  occasions.  The  death  of  public  benefac- 
tors surcharges  the  heart  and  it  spontaneously  dis- 
burdens itself  by  a  flow  of  sorrows. 

Such  was  the  death  of  WASHINGTON,  to  em- 
balm whose  memory,  and  perpetuate  whose  death- 
les^i  fame,  we  lent  our  feeble,  but  unnecessary  ser- 
vices. Such  also,  and  more  peculiarly  so,  has  been 
the  death  of  HAMILTON. 

The  tidings  of  the  former  moved  us— -mournfully 
moved  us — and  we  wept.  The  account  of  the  lat- 
ter chilled  our  hopes  and  curdled  our  blood.  The 
former  died  in  a  good  old  age  ;  the  latter  was  cut  off 
in  the  midst  of  his  usefulness.  The  former  was  a 
customary  providence  :  we  saw  in  it,  if  I  may  speak 
so,  the  finger  of  God  and  rested  in  his  sovereignty. 
The  latter  is  not  attended  v/ith  this  soothing  cir- 
cumstance. 

The  fall  of  Hamilton  owes  its  existence  to 
mad  deliberation,  and  is  marked  by  violeiice.  The 
time,  the  place,  the  circumstances,  are  arranged 
with  barbarous  coolness.  The  instrument  of  death 
is  levelled  in  day  light,  and  with  well  directed 
skill  pointed  at  his  heart.      Alas !    the  event  h^s 

12 


90 

]5roven  that  it  was  but  too  well  directed.  Wound- 
ed, mortally  wounded,  on  the  very  spot  which  still 
smoked  with  the  blood  of  a  favorite  son,  into  the 
arms  of  his  indiscreet  and  cruel  friend,  the  father 
fell. 

Ah  !  had  he  fallen  in  the  course  of  nature  :  or 
jeopardizing  his  life  in  defence  of  his  country,  had 

he  fallen But  he  did  not.      He   fell   in    single 

combat — Pardon  my  mistake — he  did  not  fall  in 
single  combat.  His  noble  nature  refused  to  en- 
danger the  life  of  his  antagonist.  But  he  exposed 
his  own  life.  This  was  his  crime  :  and  the  sacred- 
ness  of  my  office  forbids  that  I  should  hesitate  ex- 
plicitly to  declare  it  so. 

He  did  not  hesitate  to  declare  it  so  himself: 
*'  My  religious  and  moral  principles  are  strongly- 
opposed  to  duelling."  These  are  his  words  before 
he  ventured  to  the  field  of  death.  "  I  view  the  late 
transaction  with  sorrow  and  contrition."  These 
are  his  words  after  his  return. 

Humiliating  end  of  illustrious  greatness! — How 
are  the  mighty  fallen  !  And  shall  the  mighty  thus 
fall !  Thus  shall  the  noblest  lives  be  sacrificed  and 
the  richest  blood  be  spilt !  Tell  it  not  in  Gath  ; 
publish  it  not  in  the  streets  ofAskalon  ! 

Think  not  that  the  fatal  issue  of  the  late  inhu- 
man interview  was  fortuitous.  No ;  the  Hand  that 
guides  unseen  the  arrow  of  the  archer  steadied  and 
directed  the  arm  of  the  duellist.  And  why  did 
it  thus  direct  it  ?  As  a  solemn  memeiito^^^s  a  loud 


91 

and  awful  warning  to  a  community  where  jus- 
tice has  slumbered — and  slumbered — and  slumber- 
ed— while  the  wife  has  been  robbed  of  her  partner, 
the  mother  of  her  hopes,  and  life  after  life  rashly  and 
with  an  air  of  triumph,  sported  away. 

And  was  there,  O  my  God  !  no  other  sacrifice 
valuable  enough — would  tlie  cry  of  no  other  blood 
reach  the  place  of  retribution  and  wake  justice,  doz- 
ing over  her  awful  seat ! 

But  though  justice  should  still  slumber  and  re- 
tribution be  delayed,  we  who  are  the  ministers 
of  that  God  who  will  judge  the  judges  of  the 
world,  and  whose  malediction  rests  on  him  who 
does  his  work  unfaithfully,  we  will  not  keep  si- 
lence. 

I  feel,  my  brethren,  how  incongruous  my  subject 
is  with  the  place  I  occupy. 

It  is  humiliating  ;  it  is  distressing  in  a  Christian 
country  and  in  churches  consecrated  to  the  religion 
x)f  JesXjS,  to  be  obliged  to  attack  a  crime  which  out- 
strips barbarism,  and  would  even  sink  the  character 
of  a  generous  savage.  But  humiliatmg  as  it  is,  it  is 
necessary. 

And  must  we  then,  even  for  a  moment,  forget  the 
elevation  on  which  grace  hath  placed  us,  and  the 
light  which  the  gospel  sheds  around  us. — Must  we 
place  ourselves  back  in  the  midst  of  barbarism : — 
And  instead  of  hearers  softened  to  forgiveness  by 
the  love  of  Jesus  ;    filled  with  noble  sentiments  to» 


9S 

wards  enemies,  and  waiting  for  occasions,  after  the 
example  of  Divinity,  to  do  them  good— instead  of 
such  hearers,  must  we  suppose  ourselves  addressing 
hearts  petrified  to  goodness,  incapable  of  mercy  and 
broiling  with  revenge  ! — Must  we,  O  my  God  !  in- 
stead of  exhorting  those  who  hear  us,  to  go  on  unto 
perfection,  adding  to  virtue  charity,  and  to  charity 
hrothe  ly  kindness — must  \\e,  as  if  surrounded  by 
an  auditory  just  emerging  out  of  darkness  and  still 
cruel  and  ferocious,  reason  to  convince  them  that 
revenge  is  unproper,  and  that  to  commit  deliberate 
murder  is  sin ! 

Yes,  we  must  do  this.  Repeated  violations  of 
the  law,  and  the  sanctuary  which  the  guilty  find  in 
public  sentiment,  prove  that  it  is  necessary. 

Withdraw  therefore  for  a  moment,  ye  celestial 
spirits — ye  holy  angels  accustomed  to  hover  round 
these  Altars,  and  listen  to  those  strains  of  grace 
which  heretofore  have  filled  this  House  of  God. 
Other  subjects  occupy  us.  Withdraw,  therefore 
and  leave  us— leave  us  to  exhort  Christian  parents  to 
restrain  their  vengeance,  and  at  least  to  keep  back 
their  hands  from  blood— to  exhort  youth,  nurtured 
in  Christian  families,  not  rashly  to  sport  with  life  nor 
lightly  to  wring  the  widow's  heart  with  sorrows  and 
fill  the  orphan's  eye  with  tears. — 

In  accomplishing  the  object  which  is  before  me, 
it  will  not  be  expected,  as  it  is  not  necessary,  that 
I  should  give  a  history  of  Duelling.  \'ou  need 
not  be  informed  that  it  originated  in  a  dark  and 


&3     ' 

barbarous  age.  The  polished  Greek  knew  nothing 
of  it---The  noble  Roman  was  above  it.  Rome  held 
in  equal  detestation  the  man  who  exposed  his  life 
unnecessarily,  and  him,  who  refused  to  expose  it 
when  the  public  good  required  it.*  Her  heroes 
were  superior  to  private  contests.  They  indulged 
no  vengeance  except  against  the  enemies  of  their 
country.  Their  swords  were  not  drawn  unless  her 
honor  was  in  danger.  Which  honor  they  defended 
with  their  swords  not  only  but  shielded  with  their 
bosoms  also,  and  v.ere  then  prodigal  of  their 
blood. 

But  though  Greece  and  Rome  knew  nothing  of 
Duelling,  it  exists.  It  exists  among  us  :  and 
exists  at  once  the  most  Rash,  the  most  As  sunn 
and  Guilty  practice  that  ever  disgraced  a  Christian 
nation. 

Guilty-— Because  it  is  a  violation  of  the  law. 
What  law  ?  The  law  of  God.  THOU  SHALT 
NOT  KILL.  This  prohibition  was  delivered  by 
God  himself,  at  Sinai  to  the  Jews.  And,  that  it  is  of 
universal  and  perpetual  obligation,  is  manifest  from 
the  nature  of  the  crime  prohibited  not  only,  but 
also  from  the  express  declaration  of  the  Christian 
Lawgiver,  who  hath  recognized  its  justice  and  added 
to  it  the  sanctions  of  his  own  authority. 

"Thou  shalt  not  kill."  Who?  Thou,  creature. 
I  the  Creator,  have  given  life,  and  thou  shalt  not  take 


•  Salhuit  4e  bell.  Catil,  ix- 


94, 

it  away  !  When  and  under  what  circumstances 
may  I  not  take  away  life  ?  Never,  and  under  no 
circumstances,  without  my  permission. ---It  is  ob- 
vious  that  no  discretion  whatever  is  here  given. 
The  prohibition  is  addressed  to  every  individual 
where  the  law  of  God  is  promulgated,  and  the  terms 
made  use  of  are  express  and  unequivocal.  So  that 
life  cannot  be  taken  under  any  pretext,  without 
incurring  guilt,  unless  by  a  permission  sanctioned 
by  the  same  authority  which  sanctions  the  general 
law  prohibiting  it. 

From  this  law  it  is  granted  there  are  exceptions. 
These  exceptions,  however,  do  not  result  from  any 
sovereignty  which  one  creature  has  over  the  exist- 
ance  of  another  ;  but  from  the  positive  appointment 
of  that  eternal  Being,  whose  "  is  the  world  and 
the  fullness  thereof.  In  whose  hand  is  the  soul 
of  every  living  creature,  and  the  breath  of  all  man- 
kind." 

Even  the  authority  which  we  claim  over  the 
lives  of  animals  is  not  founded  on  a  natural  right, 
but  on  a  positive  grant  made  by  the  Deity  himself 
to  Noah  and  his  sons.*  This  grant  contains  our 
warrant  for  taking  the  lives  of  animals.  But  if  we 
may  not  take  the  lives  of  animals  without  permission 
from  GOD,  much  less  may  we  the  life  of  man,  made 
in  his  image. 

In  what  cases  then  has  the  Sovereign  of  life  giv- 


Gcn.  ix, 


95 
en    this  permission  ?  In    rightful    war*— by 

THE      CIVIL      MAGISTRATE,!     and    IN     NECESSARY 

SELF-DEFENC£|"-Beside  these,  I  do  not  hesitate 
to  declare,  that  in  the  oracles  of  God  there  are 
no  other. 

He  therefore  who  takes  life  in  any  other  case, 
iinder  whatever  pretext,  takes  it  unwarrantably,  is 
guilty  of  what  the  scriptures  call  murder,  and  ex- 
poses himself  to  the  malediction  of  that  God  who  is 
an  avenger  of  blood,  and  who  hath  said,  "  At 
the  hand  of  every  man's  brother  will  1  require  the  life 
of  man.  Whoso  shedeth  man's  blood  by  man  shall 
his  blood  be  shed." 

^Thc  duellist  contravenes  the  law  of  God  not 
only,  but  the  law  of  man  also.  To  the  prohi- 
bition of  the  former  have  been  added  the  sanc- 
tions of  the  latter.  Life  taken  in  a  duel  by  the 
common  law  is  murder.  And  where  this  is  not 
the  case,  the  giving  and  receiving  of  a  challenge 
only,  is  by  statute,  considered  a  high  misdemean- 
or, for  which  the  principal  and  his  second  are 
declared  infamous  and  disfranchised  for  twenty 
years. 

Under  what  accumulated  circumstances  of  ag- 
gravation does  the  duellist  jeopardise  his  own  life  or 
take  the  life  of  his  antagonist. 


'  2  Sam,  X,  12.  Jer.  xlviii,  10,  Luke,  iii,  14.  f  Ex,  xxi.  12.  t  Ex.  xxii,  2, 


9« 

I  am  sensible  that  in  a  licentious  age,  and  when 
laws  are  made  to  yield  to  the  vices  of  those  who 
move  in  the  higher  circlet,  this  crime  is  called  by  I 
know  not  what  mild  and  accommodating  name- 
But  before  these  altars  ;  in  this  house  of  God^ 
what  is  it  ?  It  is  uurdek— -deliberate,  aggravated 

MURDER. 

If  the  duellist  deny  this,  let  him  produce  his 
warrant  from  the  Author  of  life,  for  taking  away 
from  his  creature  the  life  which  had  been  sove- 
reignly given.  If  he  cannot  do  this,  beyond  all 
controversy,  he  is  a  murderer  ;  for  murder  con- 
sists  in  taking  away  life  without  the  permission, 
and  contrary  to  the  prohibition  of  him  who  gave 
it. 

Who  is  it  then  that  calls  the  duellist  to  the  dan- 
gerous and  deadly  combat  ?  Is  it  God  ?  No ;  on 
the  contrary  he  forbids  it.  Is  it  then  his  coun- 
try ?  No ;  she  also  utters  her  prohibitory  voice. 
Who  is  it  then  ?  A  man  of  honor.  And  who  is 
this  man  of  honor  ?  A  man  perhaps  whose  honor 
is  a  name.  Who  prates  with  polluted  lips  about 
the  sacredness  of  character,  when  his  own  is 
stained  with  crimes  and  needs  but  the  single  shade 
of  murder  to  complete  the  dismal  and  sickly  pic- 
ture. 

Every  transgression  of  the  divine  law  implies 
great  guilt,  because  it  is  the  transgression  of  infi- 
nite authority.  But  the  crime  of  deliberately  and 
lightly   taking    life  has    peculiar  aggravations.     It 


97 

is  a  crime  committed  against  the  written  law  not 
only,  but  also  against  the  dictates  of  reason,  the 
remonstrances  of  conscience,  and  every  tender  and 
amiable  feeling  of  the  heart. 

To  the  unfortunate  sufferer,  It  is  the  wanton  vio- 
lation of  his  most  sacred  rights.  It  snatches  him 
from  his  friends  and  his  comforts.  Terminates  his 
state  of  trial,  and  precipitates  him,  uncalled  for  and 
perhaps  unprepared,  into  the  presence  of  his  Judge. 

You  will  say  the  duellist  feels  no  malice.  Be 
it  so.  Malice,  indeed,  is  murder  in  principle.  But 
there  may  be  murder  in  reason,  and  in  fact,  where 
there  is  no  malice.  Some  other  unwarrantable  pas- 
sion or  principle  may  lead  to  the  unlawful  takinf^- 
of  human   life. 

The  highwayman,  who  cuts  the  tliroat  and  ri- 
fles the  pocket  of  the  passing  traveller,  feels  no 
malice.  And  could  he,  with  equal  ease  and  no 
greater  danger  of  detection,  have  secured  his  bootj" 
without  taking  life,  he  would  have  stayed  his  arm 
over  the  palpitating  bosom  of  his  victim  and  let 
the  plundered  suppliant  pass. 

Would  the  imputation  of  cov/ardice  have  been 
inevitable  to  the  duellist  if  a  challenge  had  not 
been  given  or  accepted  ?  The  imputation  of  want 
had  been  no  less  inevitable  to  the  robber  if  the 
money  of  the  passing  traveller  had  not  been  se- 
cured. 

Would  the  duellist  have   been  willing  to    have 

13 


98 

spared  the  life  of  his  antagonist  if  the  point  of 
honor  could  otherwise  have  been  gained  ?  So 
would  the  robber  if  the  point  of  property  could  have 
been.  Who  can  say  that  the  motives  of  the  one  arc 
not  as  urgent  as  the  motives  of  the  other,  and  the 
means  by  which  both  obtain  the  object  of  their 
wishes  are  the  same. 

Thus,  according  to  the  dictates  of  reason,  as  well 
as  the  law  of  God,  the  highwayman  and  the  du- 
ellist stand  on  ground  equally  untenable  ;  and  support 

their  guilty  havoc  of  the  human  race  by  arguments 
equally  fallacious. 

Is  duelling  guilty  ?  So  it  is 

Absurd It  is  absurd  as  a  punishment,   for 

it  admits  of  no  proportion  to  crimes  :  and  besides, 
virtue  and  vice,  guilt  and  innocence  are  equally 
exposed  by  it,  to  death  or  suffering.  As  a  repa- 
ration, it  is  still  more  absurd,  for  it  makes  the  injured 
liable  to  a  still  greater  injury.  And  as  the  vindi- 
cation of  personal  character,  it  is  absurd  even  beyond 
madness. 

One  man  of  honor  by  some  inadvertence,  or 
perhaps  with  design,  injures  the  sensibility  of  an- 
other  man  of  honor.  In  perfect  character  the 
injured  gentleman  resents  it.  He  challenges  the 
offender.  The  offender  accepts  the  challenge.  The 
time  is  fixed.  The  place  is  agreed  upon.  The 
circumstances,  wuth  an  air '  of  solemn  mania  are 
arranged  ;  and  the  principals,  with  their  seconds 
and  surgeons,  retire  under  the  covert  of  some  solitary 


9S> 

hill,  or  upon  the  margin  of  some  unfrequented  beach, 
to  settle  this  iniportcint  question  of  honor  by  stabbing 
or  shooting  at  each  other. 

One  or  the  other  or  both  the  parties  fall  in 
this  polite  and  gentlemanlike  contest.  And  what 
does  this  piovc  ?  It  proves  that  one  or  the  other 
or  both  of  them,  as  the  case  may  be,  are  marksmen. 
But  it  affords  no  evidence  that  either  of  them  possess 
honor,  probity  or  talents. 

It  is  true  that  he  who  falls  in  single  combat, 
has  the  honor  of  being  murdered  :  and  he  who 
takes  his  life,  the  honor  of  a  murderer.  Besides 
this,  I  know  not  of  any  glory  which  can  redound 
to  the  infatuated  combatants  except  it  be  what 
results  from  having  extended  the  circle  of  wretch- 
ed widows,  and  added  to  the  number  of  hapless 
orphans. 

And  yet,  terminate  as  it  will,  this  frantic  meeting, 

by  a  kind  of  magic  influence,  entirely  varnishes 
over  a  defective  and  smutty  character.  Transforms 
vice  to  virtue,  cowardice  to  courage,  makes  false- 
hood truth,  guilt  innocence.. ..In  one  word,  it  gives  a 
new  complexion  to  the  whole  state  of  things.  The 
Ethiopian  changes  his  skin,  the  leopard  his  spot, 
and  the  debauched  and  treacherous..... having  shot 
away  the  infamy  of  a  sorry  life,  comes  back  from 
the  field  of  perfectibility  quite  regenerated 
and  in  the  fullest  sense  an  honorable  man.  He 
is  now  fit  for  the  company  of  gentlemen.  He 
is  admitted  to  that  company,  and  should  he 
again    by    acts    of   vileness    stain    this    purity    of 


100 

character  so  nobly  acquired,  and  should  any  one 
have  the  afFrontery  to  say  that  he  has  done  so,  agam  he 
stands  ready  to  vindicate  his  honor,  and  by  another 
act  of  homicide,  to  wipe  away  the  stain  which  has 
been  attached  to  it. 

I  might  illustrate  this  article  by  example.  I 
might  produce  instances  of  this  mysterious  trans- 
formation of  character,  in  the  sublime  circles  of 
moral  refinement,  furnished  by  the  higher  orders 
of  the  fashionable  world,  which  the  mere  firing  of 
pistols  has  produced. 

But  the  occasion  is  too  awful  for  irony. 

Absurd  as  duelling  is,  were  it  absurd  only,  though 
ive  might  smile  at  the  weakness  and  pity  the  folly  of 
its  abettors,  there  would  be  no  occasion  for  seriously 
attacking  them  — But  to  what  has  been  said,  I  add, 
that  duelling  is 

Rash  and  Presumptuous. 

Life  is  the  gift  of  God,  and  it  was  never  be- 
stowed to  be  sported  with.  To  each  the  Sove- 
reign of  the  universe  has  marked  out  a  sphere  to 
move  in  and  assigned  a  part  to  act.  This  part 
respects  ourselves  not  only  but  others  also. — i'.ach 
lives  for  the  benefit  of  all. 

As  in  the  system  of  nature  the  sun  shines,  not 
to  display  its  ov^n  brightness  and  answer  its  own 
convenience,  but  to  warm,  enlighten  and  bless 
the  world  ;  so  in  the  system  of  animated  beings, 
there  is  a  dependence,  a  correspondence  and  a  re- 


101 

lation  through  an  infinitely  extended,  dying  and 
reviving  universe — In  which  no  jnan  l^v.-'th  to  him- 
self and  no  man  cieth  to  himself.  Friend  is  relat- 
ed to  friend.  The  father  to  his  family  ;  the  indi- 
vidual to  community.  To  every  member  of  which, 
having  fixed  his  station  and  assigned  his  duty, 
the  God  of  nature  sa}s,  "  Keep  this  trust — defend 
this  post."  For  whom  ?  For  thy  friends — thy 
family — thy  country.  And  having  received  such  a 
charge,  and  for  such  a  purpose,  to  desert  it  is  rashness 
and  temerity. 

Since  the  opinions  of  men  are  as  they  are,  do 
you  ask,  how  you  shall  avoid  the  imputation  of 
cowardice,  if  you  do  not  fight  when  you  are  injured  ? 
Ask  your  family  how  you  will  avoid  the  imputa- 
tion of  cruelty — ask  your  conscience  how  you  will 
avoid  the  imputation  of  guilt — ask  God  how  you 
will  avoid  his  malediction  if  you  do  ?  lliese  are  pre- 
vious questions.  Let  these  first  be  answered,  and 
it  will  be  easy  to  reply  to  any  which  may  follow 
them. 

If  you  only  except  a  challenge  when  you  believe 
in  your  conscience  that  duelling  is  wrong,  you  act 
the  coward.  Ihe  dastardly  fear  of  the  world  go- 
verns you.  Awed  by  its  menaces  you  conceal  your 
sentiments,  appear  in  disguise  and  act  in  guilty  con- 
formity to  princijDles  not  your  own,  and  tliat  too  in 
the  most  solemn  moment  and  when  engaged  in  an 
act  which  exposes  you  to  death. 

But  if  it  be  rashness  to  accept,  how  passing  rash- 
ness is  it,  in  a  sinner,  to  give  a  challenge  ?    Does* 


102 

it  become  him,  whose  hfe  is  measured  out  by  crimes, 
to  be  extreme  to  mark  and  punctilious  to  resent 
whatever  is  amiss  in  others  ?  Must  the  duellist,  who 
now  disdaining  to  forgive,  so  imperiously  demands 
satisfaction  to  the  uttermost — must  this  man,  him- 
self trembling  at  the  recollection  of  his  offences,  pre- 
sently appear  a  suppliant  before  the  mercy  scat  of 
God.  Imagine  this,  and  the  case  is  not  imaginary, 
and  you  cannot  conceive  an  instance  of  greater  in- 
consistency or  of  more  presumptuous  arrogance. 
Wherefore  avenge  not  yourselves  but  rather  giv- 
place  unto  wrath;  for  vengeance  is  mine,  I  will  repay- 
it,  Siiith  //Ve  Lord. 

Do  you  ask  then,  how  you  shall  conduct  towards 
your  enemy  who  lath  lightly  done  you  wrong?  If 
he  be  hungry,  feed  him ;  if  naked,  clothe  him  ;  if 
thirsty,  give  him  drink.  Such,  had  you  preferred 
your  question  to  Jxsus  Christ  is  the  answer  he 
had  jriven  you.  By  observing  which,  you  will 
usually  subdue,  and  always  act  more  honorable  than 
your  enemy. 

I  feel,  my  brethren,  as  a  minister  of  Jesus  and 
a  teacher  of  his  gospel,  a  noble  elevation  on  this 
article. 

Compare  the  conduct  of  the  Christian,  acting  in 
conforr.-iity  to  the  principles  of  religion,  and  of  the 
duellist,  a'  ting  in  conformity  to  the  principles  of 
honor,  ard  let  reason  say  which  bears  the  marks  of 
the  most  exa.ted  greatness.      Compare  them,  and 


103 

let  reason  say  which  enjoys  the  most  cahn  serenity  of 
mind  in  time,  and  which  is  likely  to  receive  the 
plaudid  of  his  Judge  in  immoi'tality. 

God,  from  his  throne,  beholds  not  a  nobler  ob- 
ject on  his  footstool,  than  the  man  who  loves  his  en- 
emies, pities  their  errors,  and  forgives  the  injuries 
they  do  him.  This  is  indeed  the  very  spirit  of  the 
heavens.  It  is  the  imnge  of  his  benignity  whose 
glory  fills  them. 

To  return  to  the  subject  before  us — guilty,  ab- 
stJRD,  and  RASPi  as  duelling  is,  it  has  its  advocates. 
And  had  it  not  had  its  advocates — had  not  a  strancre 
preponderance  of  opinion  been  in  favor  of  it,  never, 
O,  lamented  H.  mil  ton  !  hadst  thou  dius  fallen,  in 
the  midst  of  thy  days,  and  before  thou  hadst  reached 
the  zenith  of  thy  glory. 

O  that  I  possessed  the  talent  of  eulogy,  and  that  I 
might  be  permitted  to  indulge  the  tenderness  of 
friendship  in  paying  the  last  tribute  to  his  memory. 
O  that  I  were  capable  of  placing  this  great  man  before 
you.  Could  I  do  this,  I  should  furnish  you  with  an 
argument,  the  most  practical,  the  most  plain,  the 
most  convincing,  except  that  drav/n  from  the  man- 
date of  God,  that  was  ever  furnished  against  duelling, 
that  horrid  practice,  which  has,  in  an  awful  moment, 
robbed  the  world  of  such  exalted  worth. 

But  I  cannot  do  this,  I  can  only  hint  at  the  variety 
and  exuberance  of  his  excellence. 

The  MAN,  on  whom  nature  seems  originally  to 
have    impressed  the  stamp  of  greatness.      Whose 


104 

geniUvS  beamed  from  the  retirement  of  collegiate  life, 
with  a  radiance  which  dazzled,  and  a  loveliness  which 
charmed,  the  eye  of  sages. 

The  HERO,  called  from  his  sequestered  retreat, 
whose  first  appearance  in  the  field,  though  a  stripling, 
conciliated  the  esteem  of  Washington,  our  good 
old  fathtT.  Moving  by  whose  side,  during  all  the 
perils  of  the  revolution,  our  young  chieftain  was  a 
contributer  to  the  veteran's  glory,  the  guardian  of  his 
person,  and  the  compartner  of  his  toils. 

The  CONQUEROR,  who  sparing  of  human 
blood,  when  victory  favored,  stayed  the  uplifted 
arm,  and  nobly  said  to  the  vanquished  enemy ,r 
"  LIVE  !" 

The  STATESMAN,  the  correctness  of  whose 
principles  and  the  strength  of  whose  mind,  are  in- 
scribed on  the  records  of  congress  and  on  the  an- 
nals of  the  council  chamber.  Whose  genius  im'- 
pressed  itself  upon  the  constitution  of  his  coun- 
try ;  and  whose  memory,  the  government,  illus- 
trious FABRIC,  resting  on  this  basis,  will  perpet- 
uate while  it  lasts  ;  and  shaken  by  the  violence  of 
party,  should  it  fall,  which  may  heaven  avert,  his 
prophetic  declarations  will  be  found  inscribed  on  its 
ruins. 

The  COUNSELLOR,  who  was  at  once  the  p^ide 
of  the  bar  and  the  admiration  of  the  court.  Whose 
apprehensions  were  quick  as  li.^rhtning,  and  whose 
drvelopement  of  truth  Mas  luminous  as  its  path — 
Whose  argument  no  char.ge  of  circumstances  could 


105 

embarrass — Whose  knowledge  appeared  intuitive  ; 
and  who  by  a  single  glance,  and  with  as  much  facil- 
ity as  the  eye  of  the  eagle  passes  over  the  landscape, 
surveyed  the  whole  field  of  controversy — saw  in 
what  way  truth  might  be  most  successfully  defended.^ 
and  how  error  must  be  approached.  And  who,  with- 
out ever  stopping,  ever  hesitating,  by  a  rapid  and 
manly  march,  led  the  listening  judge  and  the  fasci- 
nated juror,  step  by  step,  through  a  delightsome 
region,  brightening  as  he  advanced,  till  his  argu- 
ment rose  to  demonstration,  and  eloquence  was 
rendered  useless  by  convictiono 

Whose  talents  were  employed  on  the  side  of 
righteousness.  Whose  voice,  whether  in  the  coun- 
cil-chamber  or  at  the  bar  of  justice,  was  virtue's 
consolation.  At  whose  approach  oppressed  human- 
ity felt  a  secret  rapture  and  the  heart  of  injured  in- 
nocence lept   for  joy. 

Where  Hamilton  was— in  whatever  sphere  be 
moved,  the  friendless  had  a  friend,  the  fatherless 
a  father,  and  the  poor  man,  though  unable  to  r<; 
ward  his  kindness,  found  an  advocate.  It  was  when 
the  rich  oppressed  the  poor, — when  the  powerful 
menaced  the  defenceless — when  truth  was  dizT^- 
gardcd  or  the  eternal  principles  ©f  justice  violated--r- 
it  was  on  these  occasions  that  he  ex. rted  all  hb 
strength.  It  was  on  these  occasions  that  he  some- 
times soared  so  high  and  shone  with  a  radiance  so 
transcendent,  I  had  almost  said,  so  *'  heavenly  as 
filled  those  around  him  with  awe,  and  gave  to  hlw* 
the  force  a  id  authority  of  a  prophet," 

14 


10& 

The  P  \TRIOT,  whose  integrity  baffled  the  scru- 
tiny of  inquisition.  Whose  manly  virtue  never 
shaped  itself  to  circumstances,  who  al'  ays  great, 
alwiiys  himself,  stood  amidst  the  varying  tides  of 
party,  Jirmy  like  the  rock,  which,  far  from  land, 
lifts  its  majestic  top  .  bove  the  waves,  and  remains 
unshaken  by  the  storms  which  agitate  the  ocean. 

The  FRIF-ND,  who  knew  no  guile.  V/hose 
bosom  was  transparent,  and  deep,  in  the  bottom  of 
whose  heart  was  rooted  every  tender  and  sympa- 
thetic virtue.  Whose  various  worth  opposing  par- 
ties acknowledged  while  alive,  and  on  whose  tomb 
they   unite  with  equal  sympathy  and  grief  to  heap 

their  honors. 

- .  ■     '  ■-  ■'■ 

I  know  he  h;;d  his  failings.  I  see  on  the  picture 
of  his  life,  a  picture  rendered   awful  by  greatness, 

and  luminous  by  virtue,  some  dark  sh..des 

.  .  .     On  these  let  the  tear  that  pities  human  weak- 
ness  fall  :  on  these  let  the  vail  which  covers  human 

frailty  rest As  a  hero, 

as  a  statesman,  as   a  patriot,  he  lived  nobly  :  and 
would  to  God  I  could  add,  he  nobly  fell. 

Unwilling  to  admit  his  error  in  this  respect,  I  go 
back  to  the  period  of  discussion.  I  see  him  re- 
sisting the  threatened  interview.  I  imagine  myself 
present  in  his  chamber.  Various  reasons,  for  a 
time,  seem  to  hold  his  determination  in  arrest.  Vari- 
ous and  moving  objects  pass  before  him,  and  speak  a 
dissuasive  language. 


107 

His  country,  which  may  need  his  counsels  to 
guide  and  hii,  arm  to  defend,  utters  her  veto.  The 
p;,r^ner  of  his  youth,  already  covered  with  weeds, 
aud  whose  tears  flow  do'vn  into  her  bosom,  inter- 
ce  es  !  Mis  babes,  stretchin^^  out  their  little  hands 
and  pouting  to  a  weeping  mother,  with  lisping 
eloquence,  but  eloquence  which  reaches  a  parent's 
heart,  cry  out  "  Stay — stay — dear  father  and  live  for 
us  1"  In  the  m.  an  time  the  spectre  of  a  fallen  son, 
pale  and  ghastly,  approaches,  opens  his  bleeding 
bosom,  and  as  the  harbinger  of  death,  points  to  the 
yawning  tomb  and  forewarns  a  hesitating  father  of  the 
issue  ! 

He  pauses.  Reviews  these  sad  objects  :  and  rea- 
sons on  the  subject.  I  admire  his  magnanimity, 
I  approve  his  reasoning,  and  I  wait  to  hear  him 
a-eject  with  indignation  the  murderous  proposition, 
and  to  see  him  spurn  from  his  presence  the  presump- 
tuous bearer  of  it. 

But  I  wait  in  vain.  It  was  a  moment  in  which 
his  great  wisdom  forsook  him.  A  moment  in  which 
H  AM  I  LtoN  was  not  himself. 

He  yield  d  to  the  force  of  an  imperious  custom. 
And  yielding,  he  sacrificed  a  life  in  which  all  had  an 

interest — and  he  is  lost — lost  to  his  country lost  tQ 

his  flimily — lost  to  us. 

^^^this act,  because  he  disclaimed  It,  and 

was  penitent,   I  lbrgi^'e  him.     But   there  are  those 
whom  I  cannot  forgive. 


108 

I  mean  not  his  antagonist.  Over  whose  erring 
steps,  if  there  be  tears  in  heaven,  a  pious  mother 
looks  down  and  wetps.  If  he  be  capable  of  feel- 
ing, he  suffers  already  all  that  humanity  can  suffer. 
Suffers,  and  wherever  he  may  fly  will  suffer,  with  the 
poign-int  recollection,  of  having  taken  the  life  of  one 
who  was  too  magnanimous  in  return  to  attempt  his 
own.  Had  he  have  known  this,  it  must  have 
paralyzed  his  arm  while  it  pointed,  at  so  incor- 
ruptible a  bosom,  the  instrument  of  death.  Does 
he  know  this  now,  his  heart,  if  it  be  not  ada- 
mant, must  soften — if  it  be  not  ice,  it  must  melt. 

But 

on  this  article  I  forbear.  Stained  with  blood  as  he 
is,  if  he  be  penitent,  I  forgive  him — and  if  he  be  not, 
before  these  altars,  where  all  of  us  appear  as  suppll- 
ants,  I  wish  not  to  excite  your  vengeance,  but 
rather,  in  behalf  of  an  object  rendered  wretched  and 
pitiable  by  crime,  to  wake  your  prayers. 

But  I  have  said,  and  I  repeat  it,  there  are  those 
whom  I  cannot  forgive. 

I  cannot  forgive  that  minister  at  the  altar,  who 
has  hitherto  forborne  to  remonstrate  on  this  subject. 
I  cannot  forgive  that  public  prosecutor,  who  en- 
trusted with  the  duty  of  avenging  his  country's 
wrongs,  has  seen  those  wrongs,  and  taken  no  mea- 
sures  to  avenge  them.  I  cannot  forgive  that  judge 
upon  the  bench,  or  that  governor  in  the  chair  of 
state,  who  has  lightly  passed  over  such  offences. 
I  cannot  forgive  the  public,  in  whose  opinion  the 


109 

duellist  finds  a  sanctuary.  I  cannot  forgiv>e  you, 
my  brethren,  who  till  this  late  hour  have  been 
silent,  whilst  successive  murders  were  committed. 
No;  I  cannot  forgive  you,  that  you  have  not  in 
common  with  the  freemen  of  this  state,  raised  your 
voice  to  the  powers  that  be^  and  loudly  and  explicitly 
demanded  an  execution  of  your  laws.  Demanded 
this  in  a  manner,  which  if  it  did  not  reach  the 
ear  of  government,  would  at  least  ha\'e  reached 
the  heavens,  and  plead  your  excuse  before  the  God 
that  filleth  them.  In  whose  presence  as  I  stand,  I 
should  not  feel  myself  innocent  of  the  blood  which 
crieth  against  us,  had  I  been  silent.  But  1  have 
not  been  silent.  Many  of  you  who  hear  me  are 
my  witnesses — the  v/alls  of  yonder  temple,  where  I 
have  heretofore  addressed  you,  are  rny  v/itnesses,  how 
freely  I  have  animadverted  on  this  subject,  in  the 
presence  both  of  those  who  have  violated  the 
laws,  and  of  those  Avhose  indispensable  duty  it 
is  to  see  the  laws  executed  on  those  who  violate 
them. 

I  enjoy  another  opportunity  ;  and  would  to  God, 
I  might  be  permitted  to  approach  for  once  the  late 
scene  of  death.  Would  to  God,  I  could  there 
assemble  on  the  one  side,  the  disconsolate  mother 
with  her  seven  fatherless  children- -and  on  the  other 
those  who  administer  the  justice  of  my  country. 
Could  I  do  this,  I  would  point  them  to  these  sad 
objects.  I  would  entreat  them,  by  the  agonies  of 
bereaved  fondness,  to  listen  to  the  widow's  heartfelt 
groans  ;  to  mark  the  orphan's    si^^-l^s  and  tears— 


lib 

And  having  done  this,  I  would  uncover  the 
breathless  corpse  of  HamiltoxM---!  would  lift  fiom 
h's  g-apiiig  wound  his  bloody  mantle---!  would 
h  d  it  up  to  hemen  before  them,  and  I  would  ask,  in 
the  name  of  God  I  would  ask,  whether  at  the  sight  of 
IT  they  felt  no  compunction. 

You  will  ask  perhaps,  what  can  be  done,  to  ar- 
rest the  progress  of  a  practice  which  has  yet  so 
many  advocates  ?  I  answer,  nothing  —  If  it  be  the 
deliberate  intention  to  do  nothing.  But  if  other- 
wise,  much   is   within   our  power. 

Let  then  the  governor  see  that  the  law^s  are  ex- 
ecuted— Let  the  council  displace  the  man  wh6 
offends  against  their  m  jesty.  Let  courts  of  jus- 
tice frown  from  their  bar,  as  unworthy  to  appear- 
before  them,  the  murderer  and  his  accomplices. 
Let  the  people  declare  him  unworthy  of  their 
conlidence  who  engages  in  such  sanguinary  con- 
tests. Let  this  be  done,  and  should  life  still  be 
taken  in  single  combat,  then  the  governor,  the 
council,  the  court,  the  people,  looking  up  to  the 
Avenger  of  sin,  may  say,  "  we  are  innocent — we 
are  innocent." 

Do  yo  I  ask  how  proof  can  be  obtained  ?  How 
can  it  be  avoided  ? — The  parties  return,  hold  up 
befcre  our  eyes  the  instrum.ents  of  death,  publish 
to  the  world  the  circumstances  of  their  interview^ 
and  even,  with  an  air  of  insulting  triumph,  boast, 
how  cooly  and  hov/  deliberately  they  proceeded 
in   ■••iolating  one  of  XhQ  most  sacred  laws  of  e?.rth 


lU 

Ah  !  ye  tragic  shores  of  Hoboken,  crimsoned 
•with  the  richest  blood,  I  tremble  at  ti;e  crii:.es 
you  record  against  us — the  annual  register  cf 
murders,  which  you  keep  and  send  up  to  God  ! 
Place  of  inhuman  cruelty  !  beyond  the  limits  of 
reason,  of  duty,  and  of  religion,  where  man  as- 
sumes a  more  barbarous  nature,  and  ceases  t  be 
mail.  What  poig  ant,  lingering  sorroAvs  do  thy 
lawless   combats  occasion  to   surviving  relatives! 

Ye  who  have  hearts  of  pity — ye  who  h  ,ve  ex- 
perienced the  a'lguish  of  dissolving  friendship — 
■who  have  wept,  and  still  weep  over  the  moulder- 
ing ruins  of  departed  kindred,  ye  can  enter  into 
this  reflection. 

O  thou  disconsolate  widow  1  robbed,  so  cruelly 
robbed,  and  in  so  short  a  time,  both  of  a  husband  and 
a  son,  what  must  be  the  plentitude  of  thy  suiftrings  ! 
Could  we  approach  thee,  gladly  would  we  drop  the 
tear  of  sympathy,  and  pour  into  thy  bleeding  bosom 
the  balm  of  consolation.  But  how  could  we  comfort 
her  whom  God  hath  not  comforted  !  To  his  throne, 
let  us  lift  up  our  voice  and  weep.  O  God  !  if  thou 
art  still  the  widow's  husband,  and  the  father  of  the 
fatherless — if  in  the  fullness  of  thy  goodness  there  be 
yet  mercies  in  store  for  miserable  mortals,  pity,  O 
pity  this  afflicted  mother,  and  grant  that  her  hapless 
orphans  may  find  a  friend,  a  benefactor,  a  father  in 
THEE  ! 

On  this  article  I  have  done :  and  may  God  add  his 
blessing. 


112 

But  I  have  still  a  claim  upon  your  patience.  I  can- 
not here  repress  my  feelings,  and  thus  let  pass  the 
present  opportunity 

Hoiv  are  the  mighty  fallen  !  And  re^rdless  as 
we  are  of  vulgar  deaths,  shall  not  the  fall  of  the  migh- 
ty affect  us  ! 

A  short  time  since,  and  he  who  is  the  occasion  of 
our  sDrrows,  was  the  ornament  of  his  country.  He 
stood  on  an  eminence  ;  and  glory  covered  him. 
From  that  eminence  he  has  fallen — suddenly,  for  ever, 
fallen.  His  intercourse  with  th?  living  world  is  now 
ended  ;  and  those  who  would  hereafter  find  him  must 
seek  him  in  the  grave.  There,  cold  and  lifeless,  is 
the  heart  which  just  now  was  the  seat  of  friendship. 
There,  dim  and  sightless  is  the  eye,  whose  radient  and 
enlivening  orb  beamed  with  intelligence  ;  and  there, 
closed  for  ever  are  those  lips,  on  whose  persuasive 
accents  we  have  so  often  and  so  lately  hung  with 
ti'ansport. 

From  the  darkness  whicli  rests  upon  his  tomb  there 
j),roceeds,  methinks,  a  light  in  which  it  is  clearly  seen 
that  those  gaudy  objects  which  men  pursue  are  only 
phantoms.  In  this  light  how  dimly  shines  the  splen- 
dor of  victory — how  humble  appears  the  majesty  of 
grandeur.  The  bubble  which  semed  to  lave  so 
much  solidity  has  burst :  and  wc  again  see  that  all 
below  the  sun  is  vanity 

True,  the  funeral  eulogy  has  been  pronounced. 
The  sad  a:id  solemn  procc  .sion  has  moved.  The 
badge  of  mourning  has  already  been  decreed,  and 


113 

presently  the  sculptured  marble  will  lift  up  its  front  > 
proud  to  perpetuate  the  name  of  HAMILTON,  and 
rehearse  to  the  passing  traveller  his  virtues. 

Just  tributes  of  respect  !  And  to  the  living  use- 
ful. But  to  him,  mouldering  in  his  narrow  and  hum- 
ble habitation,  what  are  they  ? — How  vain  !  how  un. 
availing ! 

Approach,  and  behold — while  I  lift  from  his  sepul- 
chre its  covering.  Ye  admirers  of  his  greutness,  ye 
emulous  of  his  talents  and  his  fame,  approach,  and  be- 
hold him  now.  How  pale!  How  silent  !  No  mar- 
tial bands  admire  the  adroitness  of  his  movements. 
No  fascinated  throng  weep — and  melt — and  tremble 
at  his  eloquence  ! — Amazing  change.  A  shrowd  I 
a  coffin  !  a  narrow  subterraneous  cabin!  This  is  all 
that  now  remains  of  Hamilton  !  And  is  this  all 
that  remains  of  him  ? — During  a  life  so  transitory, 
what  lasting  monument  then  can  our  fondest  hopes 
erect  ? 

My  brethren  !  we  stand  on  the  borders  of  an  aw= 
PUL  GULF,  which  is  swallowing  up  all  things  human. 
And  is  there,  amidst  this  universal  wreck,  nothing 
stable,  nothing  abiding,  nothing  immortal  on  which 
poor,  frail,  dying  man  can  fasten. 

Ask  the  hero,  ask  the  statesman,  whose  wisdom 
you  have  been  accustomed  to  revere,  and  he  will  tell 
you.  He  will  tell  you,  did  I  say  ?  He  has  already 
told  you,  from  his  death  bed,  and  his  illumined  spirit 

15 


iU 

still  whispers  from  the  heavens,  with  well  known  elo- 
quence, the  solemn  admonition. 

*'  Mortals  !  hastening  to  the  tomb,  and  once  the 
companions  of  my  pilgrimage,  take  warning  and  avoid 
my  errors — Cultivate  the  virtues  I  have  recom- 
mended— Choose  the  Savior  I  have  chosen — Live 
disinterestedly — Live  for  immortality  ;  and  would 
you  rescue  any  thing  from  final  dissolution,  lay  it 
up  in  God." 

Thus  speaks,  methinks,  our  deceased  benefactor, 
and  thus  he  acted  during  his  last  sad  hours.  To  the 
exclusion  of  every  other  concern,  religion  now  claims 
all  his  thoughts. 

Jesus!  Jesus  is  now  his  only  hope.  The  friends 
of  Jesus  are  his  friends.  The  ministers  of  the  altar 
his  companions.  While  these  intercede  he  listens 
in  awful  silence,  or  in  profound  submission,  whispers 
his  assent. 

Sensible,  deeply  sensible  of  his  sins,  he  pleads 
no  merit  of  his  ovn.  He  repairs  to  the  mercy  seat, 
and  there  pours  out  his  penitential  sorrows— there  he 
solicits  pardon. 

Heaven,  it  should  seem,  heard  and  pitied  the 
suppliant's  cries.  Disburdened  of  his  sorrows,  and 
looking  up  to  God,  he  exclaims,  "  Grace,  rich 
grace."  '*  I  have,"  said  he,  clasping  his  dying 
h  nds,  and   with  a  faltering  tongue,    "  I  have   a 

TENDER    RELIANCE    ON     THE    M  E  T?  C  Y    OF     GoD    IN 

Christ,"      In  token  of  this  reliance,  and   as  an 


115 

expression  of  his  faith,  he  receives  the  holy  sacra, 
ment.  And  having  done  this,  his  mind  becomes 
tranquil  and  serene.  Thus  he  remains,  thoughtful 
indeed,  but  unruffled  to  the  last,  and  meets  death 
with  an  air  of  dignified  composure,  and  with  an  eye 
directed  to  the  heavens. 

This  last  act,  more  than  any  other,  sheds  glory 
on  his  character.  Every  thing  else  death  effaces. 
Religion  alone  abides  with  him  on  his  death-bed. 
He  dies  a  Christian.  This  is  all  which  can  be 
enrolled  of  him  among  the  archives  of  eternity. 
This  is  all  that  can  make  his  name  great  in  hea- 
ven. 

Let  not  the  sneering  infidel  persuade  you  that  this 
last  act  of  homage  to  the  Savior,  resulted  from  an 
enfeebled  state  of  mental  faculties,  or  from  pertur- 
bation occasioned  by  the  near  approach  of  death. 
No;  his  opinions  concerning  the  Divine  Mission 
of  Jesus  Christ,  and  the  vahdity  of  the  holy  scrip- 
tures had  long  been  settled;  and  settled  after  labori- 
ous investigation  and  extensive  and  deep  research. 
These  opinions  were  not  concealed.  I  knew  them 
myself.  Some  of  you  who  hear  me  knew  them. 
And  had  his  life  been  spared,  it  was  his  determina- 
tion to  have  published  them  to  the  world,  together 
with  the  facts  and  reasons  on  which  they  were 
founded* 

At  a  time  when  skepticism,  shallow  and  superfi- 
cial indeed,  but  depraved  and  malignant,  is  breathing 
forth    its   pestilential  vapour,   and  polluting  by  its 


116 

unhallowed  touch,  every  thing  divine  and  sacred  ; 
it  is  consoling  to  a  devout  mind  to  reflect,  that  the 
ffreat,  and  the  wise,  and  the  good  of  all  ages ;  those 
superior  geniuses,  whose  splendid  talents  have  elevat- 
ed them  almost  above  mortality,  and  placed  them 
next  in  order  to  angelic  natures — Yes,  it  is  consol- 
ing to  a  devout  mind  to  reflect,  that  while  dwarfish 
infidelity  lifts  up  its  deformed  head  and  mocks, 
these  ILLUSTRIOUS  personages,  though  living  in 
different  ages — inhabiting  different  countries— nur- 
tui-ed  in  different  schools  —destined  to  different  pur- 
suits— -and  differing  on  variaus  subjects — should  all, 
as  if  touched  with  an  impulse  from  heaven,  agree 
to  vindicate  the  Sacredness  of  Revelation,  and  pre- 
sent with  one  accord,  their  learning,  their  talents 
and  their  virtue,  on  the  Gospel  Altar,  as  an  offering 
to  Emmanuel. 

This  is  not  exaggeration.  Who  was  it,  that  over> 
leading  the  narrow  bounds  which  had  hitherto  been 
set  to  the  human  mind,  ranged  abroad  through  the 
immensity  of  space,  discovered  and  illustrated  those 
laws  by  which  the  Deity  unites,  binds,  and  governs 
all  things?  Who  was  it,  soaring  into  the  sublime 
of  astronomic  science,  numbered  the  stars  of  heaven, 
measured  their  spheres,  and  called  them  by  their 
names?  It  was  Newton.  But  Newton  was  a 
Christain.  Newton,  great  as  he  was,  received  in- 
struction  from  the  lips,  and  laid  his  honors  at  the 
feet,  of  Jesus. 

Who  was  it,  that  developed  the  hidden  combina- 
tion, the  component  parts  of  bodies  ?    Who  was  it, 


/  117 

dissected  the  animal,  examined  the  flower,  penetrat- 
ed the  earth,  and  ranged  the  extent  of  organic  na- 
ture ?  It  was  Boyle.     But  Boyle  was  a  Christian. 

Who  was  it,  that  lifted  the  vail  which  had  for  ages 
covered  the  intellectual  world,  analyzed  the  human 
mind,  defined  its  powers,  and  reduced  its  operations 
to  certain  and  fixed  laws?  It  was  Locke.  But 
Locke  too  was  a  Christian. 

What  more  shall  I  say  P  For  time  would  fail  me, 
to  speak  of  Hale,  learned  in  the  law  ;  of  Addison, 
admired  in  the  schools;  of  Milton,  celebrated 
among  the  poets;  and  of  Washington,  immortal 
in  the  field  and  in  the  cabinet. — To  this  catalogue  of 
professing  Christians,  from  among,  if  I  may  speak 
so,  a  higher  order  of  beings,  may  now  be  added  the 
name  of  ALEXANDER  HAMILTON.  A  name 
which  raises  in  the  mind  the  idea  of  whatever  is 
great,  whatever  is  splendid,  whatever  is  illustrious  in 
human  nature  ;  and  which  is  now  added  to  a  cata- 
logue which  might  be  lengthened — and  lengthened — 
and  lengthened  with  the  names  of  illustrious  charac- 
ters, whose  lives  have  blessed  society,  and  whose 
works  form  a  COLUMN  high  as  heaven — a  column 
of  learning,  of  wisdom  and  of  greatness,  which  will 
stand  to  future  ages,  an  eternal  monument  of 
the  transcendent  talents  of  the  advocates  of  Christian- 
ity, when  every  fugitive  leaf,  from  the  pen  of  the 
canting  infidel  witlings  of  the  day,  shall  be  swept 
by  the  tide  ef  time  from  the  annals  of  the  world, 
and  buried  with  the  names  of  their  authors  in  ob- 
livion. 


116 

To  conclude.  Hcrw  are  the  mightif  fallen  !  Fallen 
before  the  desolating  hand  of  death.  Alas  !  the  ru- 
ins of  the  tomb The  ruins  of  the 

tomb  are  an  emblem  of  the  ruins  of  the  world. 
When  not  an  individual,  but  an  universe,  already 
marsed  by  sin  and  hastening  to  dissolution,  shall  ago- 
nize and  die  !  Directing  your  thoughts  from  the 
one,  fix  them  for  a  moment  on  the  other.  Anticipate 
the  concluding  scene,  the  final  catastrophe  of  nature. 
When  the  sign  of  the  Son  of  man  shall  be  seen  in 
heaven.  When  the  Son  of  man  himself  shall  appear 
in  the  glory  of  his  Father,  and  send  forth  judgment 
unto  viciory.  The  fiery  desolation  envelopes  towns, 
palaces  and  fortresses.  The  heavens  pass  away  ! 
The  earth  melts  !  and  all  those  magnificent  produc- 
tions of  art,  which  ages,  heaped  on  ages,  have  reared 
up,  are  in  one  awful  day  reduced  to  ashes  I 

Against  the  ruins  of  that  day,  as  well  as  the  ruins 
of  the  tomb  which  precede  it,  the  gospel  in  the  cross 
of  its  great  High  Priest,  oaers  you  all  a  sanctuary, 
A  sunctuai  y  sec  ure  anc  abiding.  A  sanctuary,  which 
no  lapse  of  time  nor  change  of  circumstances  can 
destroy.  No  ;  neither  life  nor  death — No  ;  neither 
principalities  nor  powers. 

Every  thing  else  is  fugitive  ;  every  thing  else  is 
mutable ;  every  thing  else  will  fail  you.  But  this,  the 
CITADEL  of  the  Chris  an's  hopes,  will  never  fail  you. 
Its  base  is  adamant.  It  is  cemented  with  the  richest 
blood.  '1  he  ransomed  of  the  Lord  crowd  its  portals. 
Enbosomed  in  the  dust  which  it  incloses,  the  bodicg 
of  the  redeemed  "  rest  in  hope."  On  its  top  dwells  the 


119 

Church  of  the  first  born,  who  in  delightful  response 
with  the  angels  of  light,  chant  redeeming  love. 
Against  this  citadel  the  tempest  beats,  and  around  it 
the  storm  rages  and  spends  its  force  in  vain.  Immor- 
tal in  its  nature,  and  incapable  of  change,  it  stands 
and  stands  firm,  amidst  the  ruins  of  a  mouldering 
world,  and  endures  for  e\'er. 

Thither  fly,  yc  prisoners  of  hope  ! — that  v»'heii 
earth,  air,  elements,  shall  haA'e  passed  av/ay,  secure  of 
existence  and  felicity,  you  may  join  with  saints  in 
glory,  to  perpetuate  the  song  whiah  lingered  on  the 
iaultering  tongue  of  HAMILTON,  "  Grace,  rich 
Grace." 

God  grant  us  this  honor.  Then  shall  the  measui*e 
of  our  joy  be  full,  and  to  his  name  shall  be  the  glory 
in  Christ."     AMMJV. 


APPENDIX. 


16 


/^^ 


APPENDIX, 


The  following  paper,  in  the  hand  writing  of  Gen, 
Hamilton,  was  inclosed  with  his  Will,  and  some 
other  papers,  in  a  packet,  addressed  to  one  of 
his  executors,  which  was  of  course  not  to  have 
been  delivered  but  in  case  of  the  melancholy  event 
that  has  happened.  As  it  contains  his  motives 
and  reflections  on  the  causes  that  have  led  to 
this  fatal  catastrophe,  it  is  deemed  proper  to 
communicate  it  to  the  public. 

On  my  expected  interview  with  Col.  Burr," 
I  think  it  proper  to  make  some  remarks  explanatory 
of  my  conduct,  motives  and  Views. 

I  was  certainly  desirous  of  avoiding  this  intervievy 
for  the  most  cogent  reasons. 

1.  My  religious  and  moral  principles  are  strong- 
ly opposed  to  the  practice  of  duelling,  and  it 
would  ever  give  me  pain  to  be  obliged  to  shed 
the  blood  of  a  fellow  creature  in  a  private  comba.t 
forbidden  bv  the  laws. 


124 

2.  My  wife  and  children  are  extremely  dear  to 
me,  and  my  life  is  of  the  utmost  importance  to 
them,  in  various  views. 

3.  I  feel  a  sense  of  obligation  towards  my  creditors, 
who,  in  case  of  accident  to  me,  by  the  forced 
sale  of  my  property,  may  be  in  some  degree  suf- 
ferers. I  did  not  think  mysdf  at  liberty,  as  a 
man  of  probity,  lightly  to  expose  them  to  this 
hazard. 

4.  I  am  conscious  of  no  ill  will  to  Col.  Burr, 
distinct  from  political  opposition,  which,  as  I 
trust,  has  proceeded  from  pure  and  upright  mo- 
tives. 

Lastly,  I  shall  hazard  much,  and  can  possibly 
gain  nothing,  by  the  issue  of  the  interview. 

But  it  was,  as  I  conceive,  impossible  for  me  to 
avoid  it.  There  were  intrinsic  difficulties  in  the 
thing,  and  artificial  embarrassments,  from  the 
manner  of  proceeding  on  the  part  of  Col.  Burr. 

Intrinsic,  because  it  is  not  to  be  denied,  that 
my  animadversions  on  the  political  principJes,  cliar- 
acter  and  views  of  Col.  Burr,  have  been  ex- 
tremely severe  ;  and  on  different  occasions,  I,  in 
common  with  many  others,  have  made  very  unfa- 
vorable criticisms  on  particular  instances  of  the 
private  conduct  of  this  gentleman. 

In  proportion  as  these  impressions  were  enter- 
tained with  sincerity,  and  uttered  with  motives 
and  for  purposes  which  might  appear  to  me  com^ 


125 

mendablc,  would  be  the  difficulty  (until  thc} 
could  be  removed  by  evidence  of  their  being  er- 
roneous) of  explanation  or  apology.  The  disavowal 
required  of  me  by  Col.  Burr,  in  a  general  and 
indefinite  form,  was  out  of  my  power,  if  it  had 
really  been  proper  for  me  to  submit  to  be  so 
questioned  ;  but  I  was  sincerely  of  opinion  that 
this  could  not  be,  and  in  this  opinion  I  was  con- 
firmed by  that  of  a  very  moderate  and  judicious 
friend  whom  I  consulted.  Besides  that  Col.  Burr 
appeared  to  me  to  assume,  in  the  first  instance,  a 
tone  unnecessarily  peremptory  and  menacin.o-,  and 
in  the  second,  positively  offensive.  Yet  1  uashed, 
as  far  as  might  be  practicable,  to  leave  a  door 
open  to  accommodation.  This,  I  think,  will  be 
inferred  from  thc  written  communications  made 
by  me  and  by  my  direction,  and  would  be  con- 
firmed by  the  conversations  between  Iv.r.  Van 
Ness  and  myself,  which  arose  out  of  the  sub- 
ject. 

I  am  not  sure,  whether,  under  all  the  circum- 
stances, I  did  not  go  fiirtLer  in  the  attemDt  to 
accommodate,  than  a  punctilious  delicacy  will  jus- 
tify. If  so,  I  hope  the  motives  1  have  stated  wil! 
excuse  me. 

It  is  not  my  design,  by  what  I  have  said,  to 
affix  any  odium  on  the  conduct  of  Col.  Bur2<,  in 
this  cast — He  doubtless  has  heard  of  animadver- 
sions of  mine  which  bore  very  hard  upon  him  ; 
and  it  is  probable  that  as  usual  they  \\ere  accom- 


126 

paiiicd  with  some  falsehoods.  He  may  have  s'up- 
posed  himself  under  the  necessity  of  acting  as  he 
lias  done  ;  I  hope  the  grounds  of  his  proceeding 
Iiave  been  such  as  ought  to  satisfy  his  own  con- 
science. 

I  trust,  at  the  same  time,  that  the  world  will 
do  me  the  justice  to  believe,  that  I  have  not  cen- 
sured him  on  light  grounds,  nor  Irom  unworthy- 
inducements.  I  certainly  have  had  strong  reasons 
ibr  what  1  may  have  said,  though  it  is  possible 
that  in  some  particulars,  I  may  have  been  influ- 
enced by  misconstruction  or  misinformation.  It 
is  also  my  ardent  wish  that  I  may  huxe  been  more 
mistaken  than  1  think  I  have  been,  and  that  he, 
by  his  futui'e  conduct,  may  shew  himself  worthy 
of  all  confidence  and  esteem,  and  prove  an  ornament 
and  blessing  to  the  country. 

As  well  because  it  is  possible  that  I  may  have 
ivijurcd  CoL  Burr,  however  convinced  myself 
that  my  opinions  and  declarations  ha^•e  been  well 
founded,  as  from  my  general  piinciples  and  tem- 
per in  relation  to  similar  affairs — I  have  resolved, 
if  our  interview  is  conducted  in  the  usual  manner, 
and  it  pleases  God  to  give  me  the  opportunity,  to 
reseii'e  and  throw  aivay  my  first  fire,  and  /  have 
thoughts  even  of  reserving  my  second  fire — and 
ilius  giving  a  double  opportunity  to  Col.  Burr, 
to  pause  and  to  reflect. 

Ii  is  not,   iiowever,    my    intention  to  enter  into 
;\nv    eyplri'^'atior'-    on   the   si-rcjiid- — Apoloorv.    from 


127 

pnnciple  I  hope,  rather  than  pride,   is  out  of  the 
question. 

To  those,  who,  with  mc,  abhoring  the  practice 
of  duelHng,  may  think  that  I  oiiglit  on  no  ac- 
count to  have  added  to  the  numl^er  of  bad  ex- 
amples---I  answer,  that  my  relative  situation,  as 
well  in  public  as  private,  enforcing  all  the  con- 
siderations which  constitute  what  men  of  the  world 
denominate  honour,  imposed  on  me  (as  I  thought) 
a  peculiar  necessity  not  to  decline  the  call.  The 
ability  to  be  in  future  useful,  whether  in  resisting 
mischief  or  effecting  good,  in  those  crises  of  our 
public  affairs,  which  seem  likely  to  happen,  would 
probably  be  inseparable  from  a  conformity  with 
public  prejudice  in  this  particular.  A.  H- 

'maoooQO^OQOOO'Vm 

WILL. 

In  the  name  of  God,  Amen.  I,  ALEXANDER 
HAMILTON,  of  the  city  of  New- York,  coun- 
sellor at  law,  do  make  this  my  last  will  and 
testament,  as  follows  : 

First.  I  appoint  John  B.  Church,  Nicholas  Fish, 
and  Nathaniel  Pendleton,  of  the  city  aforesaid. 
Esquires,  to  be  executors  and  trustees  of  this 
my  will,  and  I  devise  to  them,  their  heirs  and 
assigns,  as  joint  tenants  and  not  as  tenants  in 
common,  all  my  estate  real  and  personal  whatso- 
ever, and  wheresoever,  upon  trust,  at  their  discre- 
tigii,    to    sell  and  dispose    of   the  same,  at  such 


128 

time  and  times,  in  such  manner,  and  upon  such 
terms,  as  they,  the  survivors  and  survivor  shall 
think  lit,  and  out  of  the  proceeds  to  pay  all  the 
debts  which  I  shall  owe  at  the  time  of  my  de- 
cease ;  in  whole  if  the  fund  be  sufficient ;  propor- 
tionablv  if  it  shall  be  insufficient ;  and  the  residue, 
if  any  there  shall  be,  to  pay  and  deliver  to  my 
excellent  and  dear  wife  Elizabeth  Hamilton. 

Though  if  it   should    please    God    to    spare    my 
life,  I  may  look  for   a  considerable  surplus  out  of 
my    present    property,    yet    if    he    should    speedily 
call  me  to  the   eternal  world,   a  forced  sale,   as  is 
usual,   may   possibly  render   it  insufficient  to  satis- 
fy  my   debts.     I    pray    God    that    something    may 
remain  for  the   maintenance   and   education   of  my 
dear    wife   and    children.       But    should   it   on  the 
contrary  happen  that  there   is  not   enough  for  the 
payment  of  my  debts,  I  entreat  my  dear  children, 
if  they,  or  any   of  them,   should  ever  be   able,    to 
make  up  the  deficiency.     I  without  hesitation  com- 
mit to  their  delicacy  a  wish  which  is  dictated  by 
my  own.     Though  conscious   that  I  have  too  far 
sacrificed    the    interests    of   my    family    to    public 
avocations,    and    on    this    account    have    the    less 
claim  to  burthen  my  children,  yet  I  trust  in   dieir 
magnanimity    to    appreciate    as    they    ought,    this 
my  request.     In  so  unfavorable  an  event  of  things, 
the    support  of   their  dear   mother,  with  the  most 
respectful  and  tender  attention,   is  a  duty,  all  the 
sacredness  of  which  they  will  feel.     Probably  her 
own  patrimonial  resources  will  preserve  her  from 


339 

indigence.  But  in  all  situations  they  are  charged 
to  bear  in  mind  that  she  has  been  to  them,  the 
most  devoted  and  best  of  mothers. 

In  testimony  whereof,  I  have  hereunto  subscrib- 
ed my  hand,  the  ninth  day  of  July,  in  the 
year  of  our  Lord  one  thousand  eight  hundred 
and  four. 

ALEXANDER  HAMILTON. 

Signed,  sealed,  published  and  declared,  as  and  for 
his    last    will    and   testament,    in    our    presence, 
who  have  subscribed  the  same  in  his  presence, 
the   words    John    B.  Church,    being    above  in 
terlined. 

DOMINICK  F.  BLAKE, 
GRAHAM  BURRILL, 
THEO  :  B.  VALLEAU. 
Kevj'York^  Surrogate's  Office ,  ss.         July  16,  1804. 

I  do  hereby  certify  the  preceding  to  be  a 
true  copy  of  the  original  will  of  Alexander 
Hamilton,  deceased,  now  on  file  in  my  office. 

SILVANUS  MILLER,  Surrogate. 


BISHOP  MOORE'3  LETTER, 

Mr.  Coleman, 

1  HE  public  mind  being  extremely  agitated 
by  the  melancholy  fate  of  that  great  man,  Alex- 
ander   Hamilton,  I  have  thought  it  would  be 

17 


130 

grateful  to  my  fellow  citizens,  would  provide 
against  misrepresentations,  and,  perhaps,  be  con- 
ducive to  the  advancement  of  the  cause  of  reli- 
gion, were  I  to  give  a  narrative  of  some  facts 
which  have  fallen  under  my  own  observation, 
during  the  time  which  elapsed  between  the  fatal 
duel  and  his  departure  out  of  this  world. 

Yesterday  morning,  immediately  after  he  was 
brought  from  Hoboken  to  the  house  of  Mr.  Bayard, 
at  Greenw'ch,  a  message  was  sent,  informing  me 
of  the  sad  event,  accompanied  by  a  request  from 
Gen.  Hamilton,  that  I  would  come  to  him  for 
the  purpose  of  administering  the  holy  communion. 
I  went ;  but  being  desirous  to  aiford  time  for  se- 
rious reflection,  and  conceiving  that  under  existing 
circumstances,  it  would  be  right  and  proper  to 
avoid  every  appearance  of  precipitancy  in  perform- 
ing one  of  the  most  solemn  offices  of  our  religion, 
I  did  not  then  comply  with  his  desire.  At  one 
o'clock  I  was  again  called  on  to  visit  him.  Upon 
my  entering  the  room  and  approaching  his  bed, 
with  the  utmost  calmness  and  composure  he  said, 
"  My  dear  Sir,  you  perceive  my  unfortunate  sit- 
uation, and  no  doubt  have  been  made  acquainted 
with  the  circumstances  which  led  to  it.  It  is  m\- 
desire  to  receive  the  communion  at  your  hands.  1 
hope  you  will  not  conceive  there  is  any  impropri- 
ety in  my  request."  He  added,  "  It  has  for  some 
time  past  been  the  wish  of  my  heart,  and  it  was 
my  intention  to  take  an  early  opportunity  of  unit- 
ing myself  to  the  church,  by  th?  reception  of  that 


131 

holy  ordinance."  I  observed  to  him,  that  he  must 
be  very  sensible  of  the  delicate  and  trying  situa- 
tion in  which  I  was  then  placed  ;  that  however 
desirous  I  might  be  to  afford  consolation  to  a  fel- 
low mortal  in  distress  ;  still,  it  Was  my  duty  as  a 
minister  of  the  gospel,  to  hold  up  the  law  of 
God  as  paramount  to  all  other  law  ;  and  that, 
therefore,  under  the  influence  of  such  sentiments, 
I  must  unequivocally  condemn  the  practice  which 
had  brought  him  to  his  present  unhappy  condition. 
He  acknowledged  the  propriety  of  these  sentiments, 
and  declared  he  viewed  the  late  transaction  with 
sorrow  and  contrition.  I  then  asked  him,  "  should 
it  please  God  to  restore  you  to  health.  Sir,  will 
you  never  be  again  engaged  in  a  similar  transaction  ? 
and  will  you  employ  all  your  influence  in  society 
to  discountenance  this  barbarous  custom."  His 
answer  was,  "  That,  Sir,  is  my  deliberate  inten- 
tion." 

T  proceeded  to  converse  with  him  on  the  sub- 
ject  of  his  receiving  the  communion  ;  and  told 
him  that  with  respect  to  the  qualifications  of  those 
who  wished  to  become  partakers  of  that  holy  or- 
dinance, my  enquiries  could  not  be  made  in  lan- 
guage more  expressive  than  that  which  was  used 
by  our  church — "  Do  you  sincerely  repent  of 
*'  your  sins  past  P  Have  you  a  lively  faith  in 
*'  God's  mercy  through  Christ,  with  a  thankful  re- 
"  membrance  of  the  death  of  Christ  ?  And  are 
"  you  disposed  to  live  in  love  and  charity  with 
"all  men  '?"   He  lifted  up    his   hands    and    said, 


132 

^*  With  tlife  Utmost  sincerity  of  heart  I  can  answer 
"those  questions  in  the  affirmative — I  have  no  ill 
"  will  against  Col.  Burr.  I  met  him  with  a  fix- 
"  ed  resolution  to  do  him  no  harm.  I  forgive  all 
*'  that  happened."  I  then  observed  to  him,  that 
the  terrors  of  the  divine  law  were  to  be  announc- 
ed to  the  obdurate  and  impenitent  ;  but  that  the 
consolations  of  the  Gospel  were  to  be  offered  to 
the  humble  and  contrite  heart ;  that  I  had  no  rea* 
son  to  doubt  his  sincerity,  and  would  proceed  im- 
mediately to  gratify  his  wishes.  The  communion 
was  then  administered,  which  he  received  with 
great  devotion,  aiid  his  heart  afterwards  appeared 
to  be  perfectly  at  rest.  I  saw  him  again  this 
morning,  when  with  his  last  faltering  words  he 
expressed  a  strong  confidence  in  the  mercy  of 
God  through  the  intercession  of  the  Redeemer. 
I  remained  with  him  until  2  o'clock  this  after- 
noon, when  death  closed  the  awful  scene — he  ex- 
pired without  a  struggle,  and  almost  without  a 
groan. 

By  reflecting  on  this  melancholy  event,  let  the 
humble  believer  be  encouraged  ever  to  hold  fast 
that  precious  faith  which  is  the  only  source  of 
true  consolation  in  the  last  extremity  of  nature. 
Let  the  infidel  be  persuaded  to  abandon  his  oppo- 
sition to  that  gospel  which  the  strong,  inquisitive, 
and  comprehensive  mind  of  a  HAMILTON  em- 
braced, in  his  last  moments,  as  the  truth  from 
heaven.  Let  those  who  are  disposed  to  justify 
the  practice  of  duelling,  be  induced,  by  this  sim- 


us 

pie  nairrative,  to  view  with  abhorrence  that  cus- 
tom which  has  occasioned  an  irreparable  loss  to  a 
worthy  and  most  afflicted  flimily  ;  which  has  de- 
prived his  fiiends  of  a  beloved  companion,  his 
profession  of  one  of  its  brightest  ornaments,  and 
his  country  of  a  great  statesman  and  a  real  pa- 
triot. With  great  respect,  I  remain 
Your  friend  and  serv't, 

BENJAMIN  MOORE. 


Rev.  Mb.  MASON'S  LETTER. 

To  THE  Editor  of  the  Commercial   Adver- 
tiser. 

Having  read  in  your  paper  of  the  I6thj 
a  very  imperfect  account  of  my  conversation  with 
General  Hamilton    the  day  previous  to  his  de 
cease,   I  judge   it  my  duty    to    lay    the  following 
narrative  before  the  public. 

On  the  morning  of  Wednesday  the  11th  inst. 
shortly  after  ti.e  rumour  of  the  General's  injury 
had  created  an  alarm  in  the  city,  a  note  from  Dr. 
Post  informed  me  that  "  he  was  extremely  ill  at 
Mr.  William  Bayard's,  and  expressed  a  particu- 
lar desire  to  see  me  as  soon  as  possible."  I  went 
immediately.  The  exchange  of  melancholy  saluta- 
tion on  entering  the  G'-^neral's  apartment,  -was 
55ucceeded  by  a  silence  which  he  broke  by  saying, 


134 

that  he  "  had  been  anxious  to  see  me,  and  have 
the  sacrament  administered  to  him,  and  that  this 
was  still  his  wish."  I  replied  "  that  it  gave  me 
unutterable  pain  to  receive  from  him  any  request 
to  which  I  could  not  accede  :  That  in  the  present 
instance,  a  compliance  was  incompatible  with  all 
my  obligations  ;  as  it  was  a  principle  in  our  churches 
never  to  administer  the  Lord's  Supper  privately 
to  any  person  under  any  circumstances."  He 
urged  me  no  further.  I  then  remarked  to  him 
that  "  the  holy  communion  is  an  exhibition  and 
pledge  of  the  mercies  which  the  Son  of  God  has 
purchased  ;  that  the  absence  of  the  sign  does 
not  exclude  from  the  mercies  signiiied  ;  which 
were  accessable  to  him  by  faith  in  their  gracious 
Author."  "  I  am  aware"  said  he  "  of  that.  It 
is  only  as  a  sign  tliat  I  wanted  it."  A  short 
pause  ensued.  I  resumed  the  discourse,  by  ob- 
serving that  "  I  had  nothing  to  address  to  him 
in  his  affliction  but  that  same  gospel  of  the  grace  of 
God  which  it  is  my  office  to  preach  to  the  most 
obscure  and  illiterate  :  that  in  the  sight  of  God 
all  men  are  on  a  level,  as  all  have  sinned^  and  come 
short  of  his  glory  ;  and  that  they  must  apply  to 
him  for  pardon  and  for  life,  as  sinners^  whose, 
only  refuge  is  in  his  grace  reigning  by  righteousness 
through  our  Lord  Jesus  Christ.^''  "  I  perceive  it 
to  be  so,"  lald  he,  "  1  am  a  sinner  :  I  look  to  his 
mercy."  I  then  adverted  to  "  the  infmite  merit 
of  the  Redeemer,  as  the  propitiation  for  sin,  the 
:-oIe   ground   of  cur  acceptance  with  God  ;  the  sole 


135 

channel  of  his  favor  to  us  ;  and  cited  the  follow- 
ins^  pass.i|^es  of  tlie  scripture  :  "  There  is  no  .otb.er 
name  given  under  heaven  amorig  men  whereby  we 
must  be  saved  but  the  name  of  Jesus — He  is  able 
to  save  them  to  the  uttermost  who  come  unto  God 
by  him,  seeing-  he  ever  liveth  to  mike  iaterces- 
sion  for  them — The  blood  of  Jesus  Christ  clean- 
seth  from  all  sin."  This  last  passage  introduced 
the  affair  of  the  duel,  on  which  1  reminded  the 
Generals  that  he  was  not  to  be  instructed  as  to  its 
moral  aspect  ;  that  "  the  precious  bljod  of  Christ 
was  as  effectual  and  as  necessary  to  wash  av/ay 
the  transgression  which  hiid  involved  him  in  suf- 
fering, as  any  other  transgression  ;  and  that  he 
must  there,  and  there  alone,  seek  peace  for  his 
conscience,  and  a  hope  that  should  not  mik:;  h'wi 
ashamed.''''  He  assented  with  strong  emotion,  to 
these  representations,  and  declared  his  abhorrence 
of  the  whole  transaction.  "  It  was  always,"  added 
he  "  against  my  principles.  I  used  every  e-.ipedi- 
ent  to  avoid  the  interview  :  but  I  have  found,  for 
some  time  past,  that  my  life  must  be  exposed  to 
that  man.  I  v;ent  to  the  field  determhied  not  to 
take  hvi  life."  He  repeated  his  disavowal  of  all 
intention  to  hurt  Mr.  Burr  ;  the  anguish  of  his 
mind  in  recollecting  what  had  passed  ;  and  his  hum- 
ble hope  of  forgiveness  from  his  God."  I  recur- 
red to  the  topic  of  the  divine  compassions  ;  the 
freedom  of  pardon  in  the  Redeemer  Jesus,  to  per- 
ishing sinners.  "  That  grace,  my  dear  General, 
which  brings  salvation  is  rich,  rich — •*'    Yes,''  iv.- 


136 

terriipted  he,  "  it  is  rich  grace."  "  And  on  that 
grace,"  continued  I,  "  a  sinner  has  the  highest 
encouragement  to  repose  his  confidence,  because 
it  is  tendered  to  him  upon  the  surest  foundation  ; 
the  scripture  testifying  that  "  we  have  redemption 
through  the  blood  of  J'  sus,  the  forgiveness  of 
sins  according  to  the  riches  of  his  grace,"  Here 
the  General,  letting  go  my  hand,  which  he  had 
held  from  the  moment  I  sat  down  by  his  bed-side, 
clasped  his  hands  together,  and  looking  up  to- 
wards heaven,  said  with  emphasis,  "I  Aaue  a  ten- 
der reliance  on  the  mercy  of  the  Almighty  through 
the  merits  of  the  Lord  Jesus  Christ."  He  rcv 
placed  his  hand  in  mine,  and,  appearing  somewhat 
spent,  closed  his  eyes.  A  little  after,  he  fastened 
them  on  me,  and  I  proceeded  :  "  The  simple 
truths  of  the  gospel,  my  dear  sir,  which  require 
no  abstruse  investigation,  but  faith  in  the  veracity 
of  God,  who  cannot  lie,  are  best  suited  to  your 
present  condition,  and  they  are  full  of  consolation." 
"■'  I  feel  them  to  be  so,"  replied  he.  I  then  repeated 
these  texts  of  scripture.  •'  It  js  a  faithful  saying, 
and  worthy  of  all  acceptation,  that  Christ  Jesus 
came  into  the  world  to  save  sinners,  and  of  sinnera 
the  chief — I,  even  I,  am  he  that  blotteth  out  thy 
transgressions,  for  mine  own  sake,  and  will  not 
remember  thy  sins — Come  now,  and  let  us  reason 
together,  saith  the  Lord  j  though  your  sins  be  as 
scarlet,  they  shall  be  white  as  snow  ;  though  they 
be  red  like  crimson,  they  shall  be  as  wool." 
''  This,"  said  he,  "  is  my  support — Pray  for  me." 


Shall  i  pray  with  you  ?  "  Yes  !**  I  prayed  with 
him,  and  heard  him  whisper  as  I  went  alongp 
which  I  supposed  to  be  his  concurrence  with  the 
petitions.  At  the  conclusion  he  said  *'  Amen,  God 
grant  it,** 

Being  about  to  part  with  him,  I  told  him  *'  I  had 
one  request  to  make."  He  asked  *'  what  it  was  ?'* 
I  answered,  *'  that  whatever  might  be  the  issue 
of  his  affliction,  he  would  give  his  testimony  against 
the  practice  of  duelling."  *'  I  will,"  said  he— 
"  1  have  done  it.  If  Ma^'*  evidently  anticipating 
the  event j  *'  if  that  be  the  issue,  you  will  find  it 
in  writing.  If  it  please  God  that  I  recover,  I  shall 
do  it  in  a  manner  which  will  effectually  put  me  out  of 
its  reach  in  future." 

I  mentioned,  once  more,  the  importance  of  re- 
nouncing every  other  dependence  for  the  eternal 
world,  but  the  mercy  of  God  in  Christ  Jesus  ; 
with  a  particular  reference  to  the  catastrophe  of 
the  morning.  The  Gentral  was  affected,  and  said, 
"  Let  us  not  pursue  the  subject  any  further — it 
agitates  me."  He  laid  his  hands  upon  his  breast, 
with  symptoms  of  uneasiness  which  indicated  an 
increased  difficulty  of  speaking.  I  then  took  my 
leave.  He  pressed  my  hand  affectionately,  and 
desired  to  see  me  again  at  a  proper  interval.  As 
I  was  retiring,  he  lifted  up  his  hands  in  the  attitude 
of  pnyer,  and  said  feebly,  "  God  be  merciful  to 
-" — •"  His  voice  sunk,  so  that  I  heard  not  the 
rest  distinctly,  but  understood  him  to  quote  the 
words  of  the  publican  in  the  gospel,  and  to  end  the 
sentence  with,  "  me,  a  sinner." 

17 


138 

I  saw  him  a  second  time,  on  the  morning  of 
Thursday  ;  but  from  his  appearance,  and  what 
I  had  heard,  supposing  he  could  not  speak  without 
severe  effort,  I  had  no  conversation  with  him.  I 
prayed,  for  a  moment,  at  his  bed-side,  in  company 
with  his  overwhelmed  family  and  friends  ;  and  for 
the  rest,  was  one  of  the  mourjng  spectators  of 
his  composure  and  dignity  in  suffering.  His  mind 
remained  in  its  former  state  ;  and  he  viewed,  with 
calmness,  his  approaching  dissoluti  n.  I  left  him 
between  twelve  and  one,  and  at  two,  as  the  public 
know,  he  breathed  his  last. 

I  am,  sir,  with  much  respect, 
Your  obedient  servant, 

J.  M.  MASON. 


A  SERMON 

PREACHED    BEFORE    THE 

.  (©enetal  ^.^^^emMp 

OF    THE 

PRESBYTERIAN    CHURCH 

fN   THE 

UNITED  STATES  OF  AMERICA  ; 

BY   APPOINTMENT    OF    THEIR 

STANDING  COMMIT  FEE  OF  MISSIONS, 

MAY   19,    1806. 

Published  jr  theis  RzQVESf, 

BY  ELIPHALET  VOTT,  D.  D. 

VRESIDEKT   OF    UNION   COLLEGE   IN  THE   STATE    OF  KEW-YORK. 


IN  GENERAL  ASSEMBLY, 

May  20th,  1806. 

"  Besohed,  That  the  Standing  Committee  of 
Missions  be  directed  to  present  the  thanks  of  this 
Assembly  to  the  Revd.  Dr.  Nott  for  his  ^Jer- 
mon,  and  to  request  a  copy  thereof  for  publication.'* 

A  true  Copy  of  Record^ 

NATHANIEL  IRWIN,  P.  Clk,  G.  A. 


BY  THE  STANDING  COMMITTEE  OF 

MISSIONS  ; 

Resohedy  That  the  thanks  of  this  Committee 
be  presented  to  the  Revd.  Dr.  Nott,  for  his 
Missionary  Sermon,  delivered  at  their  request." 

Extract  from  the  Minutes, 

J.  J.  JANEWAY,  Sec. 


/4^ 


SERMON. 


1    COR.    XV.    5S. 
ALWAYS  ABOUNDING  IN  THE  WORK  OF  THE  LORD* 

IbON  of  man  can  these  dry  bones  live  ?  Thus 
spake  God  himself  to  Ezekiel  in  a  vision :  the 
circumstances  of  which  were  as  follow. 

The  prophet  had  been  carried  away  in  the  Spirit, 
and  set  down  in  a  valley  full  of  dry  bones.  Hav- 
ing passed  round  about  this  valley,  and  while  sur- 
veying its  silent  and  affecting  ruins,  a  voice  ad- 
dressed him,  Son  of  man  can  these  dry  bones 
live  ?  To  this  interrogation  the  prophet  gives  not 
a  decisive  answer,  but  resolves  the  issue  into  the 
sovereignty  of  God  :   0  Lord  God  thou  knowest. 

The  voice  which  before  interrogated  now  com- 
mands, Prophesy  upon  these  dry  bones  and  say 
unto  thenij  hear  the  word  of  the  Lord.  The  pro- 
phet obeys,  and  as  he  prophesies — Lo  !  the  sinews 
and  the  flesh  come  upon  them,  and  the  skin  cov- 
ers them  above. 


144 

Over  these  bones,  which  as  yet  had  no   breath 

in   them,    the    prophet    tvas  again    commanded    to 

prophesy,   and    again   was   obedient.     Breath   now 

came  into  them^  and  they  livedo  and  stood  upon  their 

Jeet^  an  exceeding  great  army. 

This  vision  contains,  in  emblem,  a  representa-^ 
tion  of  the  promised  recovery  of  the  Jews  from 
their  captivity  in  Babylon.  This,  however,  is  not 
all  that  it  contains.  Between  the  captive  state  of 
Judah  and  the  fallen  state  of  man  there  is  a  ma- 
nifest analogy.  The  dry  bones  which  are  a 
striking  emblem  of  the  former,  are  a  no  less  strike, 
ing  emblem  of  the  latter.  And  the  miracle  of 
cloathing  these  dry  bones  with  flesh,  and  inspiring 
them  with  life,  may  be  considered  as  the  figure 
of  another  miracle,  more  astonishing,  equally- 
above  the  reach  of  man,  and  "  decisively  evin- 
cive of  the  agency  of  God." — I  mean  the  mira- 
cle of  a  moral  resurrection  Notwithstanding  the 
life  and  vigour  of  the  intellectual  powers  of  man, 
revelation  asserts,  and  experience  confirms  the  me- 
lancholy assertion,  that  with  respect  to  his  morai- 
powers  he  is  dead  in  trespasses  and  sins* 

The  situation  of  the  prophet  prophesying  over 
dry  bones,  resembles  that  of  the  evangelist  call- 
ing on  the  spiritually  dead  to  hear  and  live.  And 
if  in  the  former  instance  there  was  encourage^ 
ment  for  the  prophet  to  prophesy,  in  the  latter, 
there  is  no  less  encouragement  for  the  evangelist 
to  preach.     Success  then  dep(^nded,   and  now  de- 


145 

pends,  not  on  the  will  of  man  but  of  God.  And 
his  arm  is  not  shortened  that  it  can  not  mve^  nor 
is  his  eur  heavy  that  it  can  not  hear* 

Behold,  Christians,  the  gromd  of  our  hope  for 
sinners,   and,  beholding'  it,  bs  steadfast,  iimnoveable, 

ALWAYS   ABOUNDING    IN   THE    WORK  OF    THE    LORD, 

forasmuch  as  ye  know  that  your  labors  is  not  in  vain 
in  the  Lord. 

By  abounding  in  the  work  of  the  Lord,  may  be 
understood  an  acquiescence  in  the  divine  govern- 
ment, and  a  constant  and  cordial  co-operation 
With  the  Divine  Being,  in  accomplishing  its  objects  ; 
one  of  which,  and  an  illustrious  one  too,  is  the  esta- 
blishment of  the  universal  REIGN  OF  TH£  MES- 
SIAH   ON     THE    EARTH. 

To  induce  your  co-operation,  particularly  with 
respect  to  those  Pagan  tribes  who  are  within  the 
reach  of  your  exertion,  shall  be  the  object  of  the 
present  meditation.  And,  O  may  God,  in  whose 
hands  are  the  hearts  of  all  men,  give  efficacy  to  the 
motives  which  may  be  presented  ! 

In  entering  on  this  discourse,  I  might  show, 
were  it  necessary,  that  the  influence  of  Christian- 
ity, on  the  temporal  as  well  as  eternal  interests 
of  mankind,  is  more  benign  than  Paganism. — 
But  it  is  not  necessary.  Yo  know  by  experience 
the  benignity  of  the  one,  and  were  it  possible 
to  describe  but  half  the  malignity  of  the  other, 
there  is  not  a  wretch  in  Christendom,  who,  affect- 
ed at  the  contrast,  would   not    exclaim,    the   lines 

19 


146 

ho^ve  fallen  to  me  in  pleasant  places^  I  have  a  good- 
ly heritage.  Waving  further  remarks  on  the  benig- 
nity of  the  Messiah's  reign  on  the  earth,  let  me 
direct  your  attention  to, 

ITS  CERTAINTY. 

The  kingdoms  of  this  world  will  assuredly  be- 
come the  kingdoms  of  our  Lord  and  of  his 
Christ. 

Had  Ezekiel  entertained  but  a  trembling  hope, 
that  the  dry  bones  which  spread  the  valley  before 
him  might  possibly  be  reanimated,  the  force  of 
humanity  alone  would  have  impelled  him  to  pro- 
phesy over  them.  I  look  on  yonder  wilderness? 
the  abode  of  wretched  Pagans.  This  to  me  is  a 
valley  of  dry  bones.  But  I  do  not  ask,  "  can  they 
live  ?"  I  know  they  can.  Yes  !  O  my  God,  I  know 
it  because  thou  hast  spoken  it. — Do  you  enquire 
where  God  hath  spoken  this  ?  You  shall  hear. 

Thus  saith  the  Lord,  "  The  wilderness  and  the 
solitary  places  shall  be  glad  for  them  ;  and  the  desert 
shall  rejoice  and  blossom  like  the  rose.  Princes 
shall  come  out  of  Egypt,  Ethiopia  shall  soon  stretch 
forth  her  hands  unto  God.  He  shall  judge  among 
the  nations,  and  they  shall  beat  their  swords  into 
plough  shares,  and  their  spears  into  pruning  hooks  : 
nation  shall  not  lift  up  sword  against  nation,  neithei" 
shall  they  learn  war  any  more." 

Delightful  prospect !  Then  shall  the  bow  of  war 
be    unbent,    and  the  arrow  of  death  loosed   from 


147 

Its  string.  Then  shall  the  huntsman,  attracted  by 
the  sound  of  salvation,  relinquish  the  pleasures  of 
the  chase,  and  the  hoary  warrior,  touched  by  sove- 
reign grace,  shall  lose  his  wonted  cruelty  ;  and 
turning  from  conquest  with  the  benignity  of  hea- 
ven on  his  countenance,  consecrate  to  charity  the 
spoils  he  had  taken,  and,  bowing,  lay  his  tomahawk 
and  scalping-knife  as  a  trophy  at  the  foot  of  Jesus. 
For  saith  the  Lord,  "It  is  a  light  thing  that  thou 
5houldest  be  my  servant  to  raise  up  the  tribes  of 
Jacob  and  to  restore  the  preserved  of  Israel ;  I 
will  also  give  thee  for  a  light  to  the  gentiles  that 
thou  mayest  be  my  salvation  unto  the  ends  of  the 
earth." 

I  repeat,  Christians,  in  your  hearing,  these  de- 
clarations of  God,  and  by  repeating  them  I  furnish 
you  with  evidence  more  incontestable  that  the 
end  for  which  you  labour  will  not  ultimately  be 
defeated,  than  1  could  furnish  to  the  husbandman, 
from  the  analogy  of  nature  and  the  experience 
of  ages,  that  the  end  for  which  he  labours  will 
not. 

The  husbandman,  however  encouraged  by  the 
tmcertain  prospect  of  success,  sows  his  seed  and 
waits,  in  hope,  the  reward  of  harvest,  'i  he  reward 
for  which  he  waits  may  fail  :  but  your  reward  can- 
not  There  must  be  a  harvest  of  souls — a  har- 
vest immense  and  universal.  The  veracity  of  God 
is  pledged  to  this  effect.  This  pledge  secures  un- 
alterably the  event.     The  seas-ens  may  be  interrupt- 


148 

ed  in  their  course,  the  figtree  may  cease  to  blos- 
som, and  the  fruit  of  the  olive  fail  —the  flocks  may 
be  cut  off  from  the  fold  and  no  herd  remain  in 
the  stall — nay  the  earth  itself  may  dissolve  and  tlie 
heaA  ens,  \^ rapped  in  flames,  pass  away  ;  but  the 
purpose  of  God  cannot  fail — his  promise  unac- 
complished cannot  pass  away.  Resting  the  cer- 
tainty of  the  Messiah's  reign  on  the  testimony  of 
God,  direct  your  attention  to, 

ITS  PERPETUITY. 

The  homage  which  Jesus  Christ  is  ultimately 
"to  receive  from  all  nations,  >vill  not,  like  that  paid 
him  when  entering  Jerusalem,  expire  on  the  lips 
of  those  who  oflfer  it. 

Man,  the  being  of  a  day,  is  prone  to  consider  the 
thoughts  of  Gcd  as  his  own  thoughts,  and  the 
ways  of  God  as  his  own  ways.  To  the  narrow 
sphere  in  which  he  moves,  and  to  the  short  dura- 
tion in  which  he  exists,  he  confines  his  attention, 
and  if  all  that  inspiration  ])romises  is  not  instantly 
accomplished,  he  becomes  impatient  of  dela)  and 
yields  to  infidelity.  But  the  divine  plan,  whatever 
the  t|ioughts  of  mortals  may  be  concerning  it,  has 
dimensions,  a  length  and  breadth  which  cannot  be 
measured;  and  to  that  eternal  Being  who  formed 
this  plan,  however  incomprehensible  the  position 
may  be  to  mortals,  one  day  is  as  a  tkousaftd  years 
and  a  thousand  years  as  one  day. 

A  want  of  attention  to  these  truths,  a  predisposi- 
tion to  reduce  the  designs  of  Providence  to  hum^ 


149 

We  human  limits,  has  been,  to  the  enemies  of  reve- 
lation, a  pregnant  source  of  objection,  and  to  the 
friends  of  revelation  a  source  of  error  and  calamity. 

It  was  a  prevalent  opinion,  even  among  the  im- 
mediate disciples  of  Jesus,  that  the  dispensation  of 
grace  was  then  closing,  and  that  the  end  of  all 
things  sublunary  was,  literally,  at  hand.  Happy 
would  it  have  been  if  a  sentiment  so  derogatory 
to  the  Redeemer  of  mankind  had  expired  with 
those  who  lived  to  see  the  first  dawnings  only  of 
that  day  whose  brightness  has  not  even  yet  beamed 
on  the  world.  But  it  did  not  expire  with  them  ;  it 
was  handed  down  in  the  church,  and  ultimately 
became  so  general  that  public  concernments  were 
neglected  and  private  pursuits  suspended. 

The  practical  refutation  of  this  preposterous  doc- 
trine, which  the  lapse  of  succeeding  ages  furnished, 
at  length  produced  a  change  in  sentiment.  And 
Christians  are  now,  perhaps  generally,  united  in  the 
opinion  that  the  Messiah  is  yet  to  reign  a  thou" 
sand  years  on  the  earth. 

This  opinion  gives  a  very  different  aspect  to  the 
present  state  of  things,  and  furnishes  no  inconsider- 
able relief  to  the  dark  and  dismal  picture,  wh?.ch 
this  world  would  othewise  present.  How  differ- 
ent still  will  be  the  entire  view,  should  it  appear  in 
the  sequel,  that  the  thousand  years  of  peace,  pro' 
mised  to  the  church,  are  prophetic  years,  and 
denote,  not  a  single  millenary,  but  a  vast  duration. 
Cheering  hope  !  AncJ  may  we  safely  indulge  it  ? 
To  the  law  and  to  the  testimony,  {f  they  speak  not 


150 

according  to  thit  wordy  it  is  because  there  is  no  light 
in  them. 

It,  that  is  the  seed  of  the  woman,  shall  bruise  thy 
heady  and  thou  sholt  bruise  hi*  heel.  This  laconic 
declaration  contains  the  first  intimation  of  a  Redeem- 
er, and  the  terms  suggest  that  his  injury  will  be 
trifling,  and  his  triumph  complete  and  glorious — 
terms  which  ill  comport  with  the  idea  that  the 
duration  of  the  reign  of  his  adversary  on  the  earth 
is  to  be  six  times  as  long  as  the  duration  of  his  own 
reign. 

In  the  (Economy  of  redemption,  four  thousand 
years  are  spent  in  preparing  the  way  for  the  intro- 
duction of  Messiah,  the  birth  of  Christ.  Two 
thousand  more,  in  vanquishing  his  enemies,  and 
fixing  the  boundc.ries  of  his  empire — an  empire 
which  is  to  endure  but  a  thousand  years  !  Satan 
triumph  in  this  world  six  thousand  years,  Jesus 
Christ  one  !  Is  this  consonant  to  the  dictates  of 
reason,  or  the  analogy  of  Providence  ?  Above  all, 
is  it  consonant  to  the  word  of  God  ? 

The  types  which  prefigure,  and  the  prophecies 
which  foretcl  the  kingdom  of  righteousness,  attach 
vastness  to  the  idea  of  its  duration — a  vastness  in 
comparison  with  which  the  intervening  ages  of 
sin  and  scriow  sink  to  nothings  and  are  annihilat- 
ed. 

"  All  the  ends  of  the  world  shall  remember  and 
turn  unto  the  Lord,  and  all  the  kindreds  of  the  na- 
tions shall  wordiip  before  thee.     For  the  kingdom 


151 

is  the  Lord's,  and  he  is  the  Governor  among  the  na- 
tions. For  evil  doers  shall  be  cut  off,  and  those  that 
wait  upon  the  Lord  they  shall  inherit  the  earth." 
And  when  shall  the  evil  doers  be  cut  off?  The 
prophet  shall  answer  this  question.  '*  For  vet  a 
LITTLE  WHILE  and  the  wicked  shall  not  be,  yea, 
thou  shall  diligently  consider  his  place  and  it  shall 
not  be.  But  the  meek  shall  inherit  the  earth,  and 
shall  delight  themselves  in  the  abundance  of  peace." 
And  how  long  shall  the  meek  inherit  the  earth  ? 
Again  the  prophet  shall  answer.  The  righteous  shall 
inherit  the  land^  and  dwell  therein  for  ever.* 

The  prevalence  of  the  wicked,  which  has  contin<* 
ued  from  the  time  of  the  prophet  until  the  present 
time,  and  which  has  still  the  appearance  of  further 
continuance,  in  his  estimation  was  a  momentary- 
prevalence,  a  little  xvhile.  Whereas  the  subsequent 
prevalence  of  the  righteous  is  declared  to  be  abiding 
for  ever.  The  terms  here  made  use  of  are  relative, 
and  if  they  convey  any  idea,  it  is  of  comparative 
duration.  If  then,  in  the  language  of  the  prophet, 
a  little  xvhile  denotes  several  thousands  of  years,  for 
ever  must  denote  a  period  vastly  longer. 

You  will  recollect  the  memorable  vision  of  Daniels 
in  which  an  emblematical  representation  of  future 
events  was  furnished  him.f  Unable  to  comprehend 
the  meaning  of  the  vision,  he  asks  and  obtains  an 


■Psalm  xxii,      Also  Psalm  xxxvli.         f  See  Dan.  vii. 


eXDknation,  He  is  told  that  the  four  beasts  which 
came  up  out  of  the  sea,  are  four  kingdoms.  That 
the  fourth  will  be  diverse  from  the  rest,  and  devour 
the  earth.  That  out  of  this  kingdom  ten  kings  will 
arise,  and  that  another  will  arise  afte,  them,  exalt 
himself  against  the  most  High,  and  wear  out  the 
saints  of  the  most  High,  who  are  given  into  his 
hand :  and  how  long  are  diey  given  into  his  hand  ? 
The  answer  is  subjoined  :  Until  a  iimey  and  times, 
and  the  dividing  of  time.  But  he  who  gave  the  ex- 
planation adds,  "  The  judgment  shall  sit  and  they 
shall  take  away  his  dominion,  and  the  kingdom  and 
dominion,  and  the  greatness  of  the  kingdom  under 
the  whole  heaven,  shall  be  given  to  the  people  of  the 
saints  of  the  most  High,"  who  "  shall  take  the  king- 
dom, and  possess  the  kingdom."  And  how  long 
shall  they  possess  the  kingdom  ?  Again  the  answer 
is  subjoined.  For  ever,  even  for  ever  and  ever.* 

Here  also,  the  comparative  duration  of  the  tri- 
umph of  the  righteous  and  wicked  on  the  earth 
is  brought  into  view,  and  the  terms  made  use  of 
are  such  as  to  lead  to  the  same  conclusion  as  in 
the  preceding  passages.  Indeed  if  the  terms 
here  adopted  do  not  express  vast  duration,  I  know 
of  no  terms  by  which  this  could  have  been  ex- 
pressed. 

The  power  spoken  of  in  Daniel,  into  whose  hand 
the  saints  are  delivered,  is  again  spoken  of  in  the 

*  Dan,  \ii,  18 


153 

revelation  of  John,  and  again  their  sufferings  under 
this  power  are  described.  Here  also  these  suffer- 
ings are  limited  to  a  t'lme^  and  times ^  and  half  a 
timcy  or  as  it  is  elsewhere  expressed  to  a  thousand 
two  hundred  and  three  score  dai/s.  Whereas  the 
subsequent  triumph  of  the  righteous  is  expressly  de- 
clared to  continue  a  thousand  years. 

Could  we  have  any  doubt  concerning  the  com- 
parative duration  of  two  periods,  expressed  in  the 
same  book,  the  one  by  twelve  hundred  and  sixty 
days^  the  other  by  a  thousand  years,  it  should 
seem  that  that  doubt  must  vanish  when  we  consider 
the  terms  a  little  while  and  for  ever^  by  which  these 
same  periods  are  also  expressed  ;  a  littbe  while  bemg 
clearly  explanatory  of  twelve  Imndred  and  sixty  daijs^ 
and  for  ever  of  a  thousand  years. 

In  the  language  of  prophecy,  a  day  is  frequently 
put  for  a  year.  T'hus  we  interpret  the  fi??ie^  and 
times,  and  the  dividing  of  tiine,  which  occurs  in 
Daniel.  Thus  we  interpret  the  forty  and  iwo  months^ 
which  occurs  'n  Revelation,  and,  not. to  nienlion 
other  passages,  thus  v/e  interpret  tlie  tJiou.sajzd  two 
hundred  and  three  score  days,  which  ai-^o  occurs  in 
Revelation.     And  why    should  we   ^  v/liether 

the  same  construction  is  to  be  p^it  on  a  thousand 
years,  used  to  denote  the  rei.^n  of  Jesus  Christ  • 
whose  reign,  if  the  same  interpretation  be  adopted, 
which  is  adopted  in  determining  tlie  reign '  of  liis 
adversary,  will  cont-nue  three  ]randrcd  and  sixty 
thousand  years.  Such  a  kingdom  rises  as  "^ve  con-* 
template  it,  into  an  imrortance  v/hick  gives  mean- 


154  "^         ^ 

Ing  to  the  epithets  which  the  inspired  writers 
apply  to  it.  Such  a  kingdom  may  Well  be  said  to 
be  an  everlasting  kingdom^  and  to  endure  for  ever. 
And  with  reference  to  this  kingdom,  if  such  be 
its  duration,  the  triumph  of  the  wicked,  though 
continuing  for  ages,  is  justly  termed  short,  a  little 
ivhilc. 

Whether  a  thousand  years,  when  applied  to  the 
reign  of  Messiah,  means  precisely  three  hundred 
and  sixty  thousand  years,  or  some  vast,  though 
indefinite  period,  I  will  not  here  attempt  to  deter- 
mine. But,  however  this  phrase  is  interpreted,  to 
me  it  appears  evident,  that  the  scope  of  prophecy 
requires  that  it  be  so  hiterpreted  as  to  give  to  his 
reign  a  durartion,  in  comparison  with  which,  all 
preceding  reigns  will  appeiir  transitory  and  unim- 
portant. 

It  is  not  improbable  that  the  constitution  of  this 
world,  and  the  laws  by  which  it  is  governed,  were 
originally  adapted  to  its  final  destination,  and  that 
instead  of  being  arrested  in  the  beginning  of  its 
course,  and  destroyed  in  the  midst  of  its  glory,  it 
will  be  spared  till  the  one  is  finished,  and  the  other 
departed. 

¥  What  reason  intimates,  revelation  renders  ccr. 
tain.  Says  David,  "  Of  old  thou  hast  laid  the  foun- 
dations of  the  earth,  and  the  hcaAcns  are  the  work  of 
thy  hands.      They  shall  perish,  but  thou  shalt    en- 


155 

dure  ;  yea  all  of  them  shall  wax  old  like  a  garment, 
as  a  ^'estu^e  shalt  thou  change  them  and  they  shall  be 
changed.  '* 

' "  Says  Isaiah,  "  Lift  up  yx)ur  eyes  to  the  heavens  arid 
look  upon  the  earth  beneath,  for  the  heavens  shall 
vanish  away  like  smoke,  and  the  earth  shall  wax  old 
like  a  garment." 

Says  Paul,  "  And  thou,  Lord,  in  the  beginning 
hast  laid  the  foundation  of  the  earth,  and  the  heavens 
are  the  works  of  thine  hands,  they  shall  perish,  but 
thou  remainest  ^  and  they  all  shall  wax  old  as  doth 
a  garment,  and  as  a  vesture  shalt  thou  fold  them  up, 
And  they  shall  be  changed." 

The  similitude  so  often  repeated  in  these  passa- 
'  ges  is  drawn  from  a  very  familiar  object,  and,  coji- 
cerning  the  idea  which  the  repetition  of  it  suggests, 
there  can  i^  no  doubt.  How  a  garment  waxes  old, 
is  worn  out,  and  becomes  unfit  for  use,  you  all  know. 
As  doth  a  garment,  so  God  declares  heaven  and 
earth  shall  wax  old.  And  till  they  have  so  waxen 
old  the}^  cannot  be  destroyed.  They  must  first  be 
despoiled  of  their  be:mty,  marked  with  the  lines,  and 
palsied  by  ihe  inliuence  of  age. 

That  the  present  system  is  not  to  be  eternal,  phi- 
losophy as  v/ell  as  revelation  asserts.  Deep  in  its 
nature  are  implanted  principles  of  decay,  and  the 
laws  which  govern  it  ar-.^  hastening  on  its  end.     The 


*  See  Psalm  cii.  Isa.  li.  Hcb. 


156 

siin  is  burning  out  its  splendors — subterranean 
fires  are  consuming  the  bowels  of  the  earth  ;  the 
planets  are  known,  by  an  examination  of  ancient 
eclipses,  to  be  converging ;  and  the  sage  perceives 
distinctly  in  the  movements  of  nature,  a  constant 
and  solemn  advance  towards  that  dreadful  catas- 
trophe, of  which  revelation  pre- admonishes  the 
saint. 

But  though  these  concessions  are  made,  and  tho^ 
it  is  also  conceded,  as  Peter  asserts,  that  great  chan- 
ges have  already  taken  place,  it  does  not  appear 
that  those  heavens  and  this  earth,  which,  after  the 
lapse  of  six  thousand  years,  still  display  so  much 
magnificence,  and  shine  in  so  much  glory,  will,  in 
little  more  than  a  thousand  years,  have  grown  old 
cs  doth  a  garment,  and  become  unfit  for  use.  Till 
this,  however,  shall  be  the  case,  this  earth  will  con- 
tinue the  residence  of  the  righteous,  who,  accord- 
ing to  divine  promise,  are  to  dwell  in  it,  in  peace, 
fir  ever— to  all  generations,  even  as  long  as  the  sun 
and  moon  endweth. 

What  ideas  does  this  article  give  us  of  the  de- 
signs of  Deity  in  creation  and  redemption  :  flovv 
august  appears  the  character,  how  complete  the 
victory  of  Jesus !  Where  once  stood  his  cross  now 
stands  his  throne.  And  the  same  world  which 
once  saw  the  transitory  triumph  of  his  adversary, 
now  sees  his  own  abiding  triumph,  and  pays  to  his 
divinity  a  perpetual  homage.  This  glorious  pe- 
riod the  death  of  Christ  principally  respects.  All 
previous  conquests  are  unimportant.      Those  sub- 


157 

dued  by  his  grace  during  six  thousand  years,  will 
be  kw  compared  with  the  number  who  shall 
crown  his  final  triumph.  How  great  that  numbef 
will  be  I  dare  not  even  conjecture.  But,  though  I 
dare  not,  I  love  to  agitate  the  question — to  recount 
the  hundred  and  forty  and  four  thousand — to  con- 
template, and  to  become  absorbed,  in  that  great 
multitude  of  the  redeemed,  from  among  all  nations, 
a  multitude  which  no  man  can  number. 

True ;  misery  will  continue,  and  abiding  exam- 
ples of  the  consequences  of  apostacy  will  for  ever 
furnish  to  the  universe  an  aAvful  memento.  But 
these  examples  will  be  comparatively  fcAV,  and  this 
misery  will  be  comparatively  small;  and  infinitely 
more  than  counterbalanced  by  the  superabound- 
ing  happiness  of  myriads  of  myriads  without  num- 
ber, and  without  end,  who,  entering  on  a  blessed 
immortality,  shall  throng  the  courts,  and  fill  the  house 
of  God. 

You  see,  Christians,  the  extent  and  the  perpetui- 
ty of  the  Messiah's  reign — a  reign  which  is  to  be  in^ 
troduced 

BY    HUMAN    EXERTIONS. 

As  in  the  natural,  so  in  the  moral  world,  visible 
and  intermediate  agents  effectuate  the  designs  of 
the  unseen  first  cause.  The  piety,  and  the  prayers 
of  Asa  produced  in  Israel  a  memorable  reforma- 
tion. Jehoshaphat,  inspired  by  the  example  of  a 
venerable  father,  extended  and  perpetuated  the 
heaven  approved  work.      And  '^vhen  under  a  sue- 


158 

cession  of  guilty  princes  Judah  became  corrupted, 
Jehoiada,  the  priest,  espousing  the  cause  ot  expir- 
ing virtue,  rescued  from  perdition  that  apostate 
tribe. 

From    the    Jewish    turn    your    attention    to    the 
Christian  church,  the   era  of  whose   commencement 
was  emphatically  the    era  of  miracles.     Ere  an  age 
had  elapsed,  the  reign   of    Messiah    was    extended 
from    India  to    Ethiopia,  from    Sythia    to  Britain. 
And  how  was  it  extended  ?     Aposlies   were  ordain- 
ed, evangelists   commissioned,   and    sent    forth  the 
advocates  of  the  cross,  conquering,  and  to  conquer. 
The   facts  they  attested  were  believed  ;  the  opinions 
they    inculcated    were    adopted,  and  thousands,  in 
every    country,   and    of  every  age,   recognized  the 
promised  Messiah,  and  paid  a  willing  homage  to  the 
son  of  God. 

From  this  bright  period,  pass  on  to  that  dark 
EU^d  dismal  epoch,  when .  authority  prevailed  against 
reason,  and  superstition  triumphed  over  virtue. 
A  glorious  reformation  is  again  to  be  effected  :  and 
again  illustrious  advocates  of  righteousness  are  rais- 
ed up,  by  whose  efforts  the  kingdom  of  error  is 
shaken,  and  by  whose  light  the  city  of  God  is 
jUude  glad.  In  one  word,  wherever  Christianity 
hath  been  extended — in  Europe — in  Asia — in 
Africa — it  hath  been  extended  through  the  inter- 
venticn  of  human  agency. 

Late  indeed,  and  with  a  feeble  sound,   lias  the 
gospel  jubilee  bten   pi^ Wished    to    the    wandering 


159 

native,  in  these  ends  of  the  earth.  And  yet,  even 
here,  the  pubhcation  has  not  been  vain.  From 
among  the  savage  tribes,  which  once  inhabited 
these  shores,  evangelists,  commissioned  by  our 
pious  fathers,  won  many  souls,  as  the  seals  cf  their 
ministry,  and  the  croAvn  of  their  rejoicing.  Tlie.ie 
souls  were  the  first  fruits  of  n  more  abundant  and 
glorious  harvest.  And  if  the  first  fruits  have  been 
gathered  by  the  use  of  means,  can  it  be  a  ques- 
tion how  the  residue  are  to  be  gathered  ? — That 
they  are   to  be  gathered,    in   some   way,   does   not 

admit  of  a  doubt. 1  have  read  you   from  the 

records  of  eternity,  the  charter  of  the  king- 
dom of  Jesus  Christ.  A  charter  that  covers  all 
nation?,  extends  over  every  clime,  and  compre- 
hends the  islands  of  every  sea.  That  wilderness, 
inhabited  by  savages,  belongs  to  Jesus  ;  it  is  his 
husbandry,  and  in  spite  of  Ileli,  he  will  one  day 
gather  its  precious  fruits. 

Open  your  eyes,  Christians,  for  the  fields  are 
already  white  to  harvest.  Wlierefore  double  your 
exertions,  and,  looking  up  to  God,  pray  him  to  send 
forth  labourers  into  his  har\est. 

No  nevv^  method  of  salvation  is  to  be  expected. 
Converts  to  Christianity,  ha\e  been  made  by  the 
exertions  of  the  saints,  in  time  past,  and  thus  will 
converts  be  made  in  time  to  come.  Hence,  to 
the  original  com.mission,  Go  ye  into  all  the  xi-odtU 
and  preaeh  the  gospel  to  every  creature,  were  added 
those  memorable  words  of  Christ,  Lo,  I  am  with, 
yon  alway,  even  imto  the  end  of  the   xv^rhL -J^e- 


160     / 

-hold  the  presence  of  Jesus  accompanies  his  am- 
bassadors,. "  And  it  shall  come  to  pass,  that  Avhosoev- 
er  calleth  on  the  name  of  the  Lord,  shall  be  saved." 
But  how  shall  benighted  pagans,  "  call  on  him,  in 
whom  they  have  not  believed  ?  And  how  shall  thev 
believe  in  him,  of  whom  they  have  not  heard  ?  And 
how  shall  they  hear  without  a  preacher  ?  And  ho v/ 
shall  they  preach  except  they  be  sent  ?*'  And  I  may 
add,  who  shall  send  them,  if  Christians  will  not  ? 
Christians,  who  have  tasted  the  love  of  God,  and  felt 
the  power  of  the  world  to  corne*^ 

IN    SUCH    AN    UNDERTAKING,  TO     SUCCEED 
WILL     BE    GLORIOUS. 

On  this  article,  no  one,  v.ho  either  knov/s,  the 
blessings  of  Christianity,  or  appreciates  the  worth 
of  souls,  can  entertain  a  doubt.  Every  enterprise 
tending  to  meliorate  the  condition  of  man,  reflects 
glory  on  its  author.  How  many  individuals  have' 
rendered  themselves  illustrious,  and  immortal,  by 
deeds  of  charity.  "  But  if  bcuevolence  appears 
•divine,  when  visiting  the  prisoner's  dungeon, 
and  ministering  around  the  sick  man's  couch, 
how  must  she  appear,  when  entering  unsolicited^ 
an  inhospitable  wilderness,  enquiring  for  the 
habitations  of  the  wretched,  and  bearing  to  the 
unknown  sufferers  the  cup  of  heavenly  consola- 
tion ? 

If  to  shed  on  the  iernorant  the  lijjht  of  science, 
and  restore  to  the  oppressed  the  joys  of  liberty, 
be  magnanimous,  by  what  words  shall  we  express 


161 

tlieir  magnanimity,  whose  zeal  pours  on  the  valley 
of  death  the  light  of  salvation,  and  restores  to  the 
souls  whom  satan  has  enslaved,  the  privileges  of  the 
sons  of  God  ? 

Christians,  can  you  conceive  of  any  thing  more 
glorious,  than  extending  the  blessings  of  Christianity 
to  those  tribes  of  wretched  pagans  who  dwell  upon 
your  borders  ? 

You  admit  the  object  glorious  :  but  the  difficulties 
of  attaining  it  discourage  you. — What  difficulties  ? 
Can  the  ingenuity  of  statesmen,  or  the  infidelity 
of  Christians,  suggest  difficulties  insuperable  to 
God?  Arc  there  any  intricacies  in  the  way  which 
OMNISCIENCE  camiot  trace?  Qr  mountains  which 
OMNIPOTENCE  cannot  sink  ? 

You  say  the  natives  are  indolent,  vicious,  aban- 
doned  to  drunkenness,  passionately  fond  of  the 
pleasures  of  the  chase,  impatient  of  restraint,  and 
utterly  averse,  not  to  the  purity  of  the  gospel  onh", 
but  also  to  the  restraints  of  civilized  life. — We 
admit  this  statement.  They  are  indeed  subjects 
every  way  unpromising.  But  let  it  be  remember- 
ed, that  the  dry  bones,  over  which  Ezekiel  pro 
phesied,  were  no  less  so.  And  yet  these  heard 
and  lived.  And  who  knov.s,  but  those  also  ma\ 
hear  and  live  ? 

There  are  always  difficulties  to  be  encountered 
when  reformation  is  the  object.  And  there  always 
must  be,  while  human  nature  remains  perverse.     Do 

21 


162 

you  imagine,  however,  that  these  difficulties  ex- 
cuse you  from  exertions  ? — Had  Asa  reasoned 
thus,  Israel  had  not  been  reclaimed.  Had  the  Apos- 
tles reasoned  thus,  Holland,  Germany,  and  Britain, 
countries  which  gave  birth  to  our  pious  ances'ry, 
had  remained,  to  this  day,  ignorant  of  the  gospel 
and  its  benefits.  Kad  the  Apostles  reasoned  thus, 
you,  whom  I  address  as  children  of  the  light, 
and  partakers  of  the  liberty  of  the  sons  of  God 
would  now  have  been  enveloped  in  impenetrable 
darkness,  and  bound  in  accursed  chains. — And 
in  place  of  thee,  venerable  house  of  God  ;  of  you, 
holy  altars, — Ministers  of  grace  and  witnesses  of 
Jesus,  with  which  I  am  surrounded,  mine  eyes  had 
beheld  a  Pagan  temple,  cruel  altars,  priests  stained 
with  blood,  and  worshippers  paying  homage  unto 
idols. But  they  did  not  reason  thus.  No  ;  bless- 
ed be  God  !  they  did  not.  And  yet  their  difficulties, 
in  diffusing  the  knowledge  of  the  Savior,  far  ex- 
ceeded ours. 

In  proof  of  this  assertion  shall  I  call  back  the 
scenes  of  apostolic  sufferings  ?  Shall  1  retrace  those 
paths  covered  with  the  bodies,  and  stained  with 
the  blood,  of  the  witnesses  of  Jesire  ?  Shall  I  lead 
you  to  the  confessor's  dungeon,  to  the  martyr's 
stake,  and  point  to  fires,  and  racks,  and  gibbets, 
means  of    cruelty  and   instruments  of   torture    till 

now  unknown  ? In  addition  to  the  obstinacy  of 

those  whom  they  sought  to  Christianize,  such  were 
the  difficulties  with  which  the  early  friends  of  the 
Kedeemer  struggled. 


163 

Both  Jews  and  Gentiles  obstructed  their  course, 
and  counleracted  their  influence.  Emperors  per- 
secuted, and  princes  combined  to  crush  them. 
But  they  combined  in  vain.  Their  love  for  Christ 
•was  stronger  than  death,  and  floods  of  ungodliness 
could  not  quench  it.  In  prison  and  in  exile  ;  on 
the  sf.aff'old,  and  from  the  cross,  salvation  was  pub- 
lished, and  multitudes  were  converted. 

Such  were  the  exertions,  and  such  the  success 
of  the  primitive  saints.  And  if  oar  motives  were 
as  pure,  and  our  exertions  a^  vigorous,  who  knows 
but  our  success  would  be  as  great  ? 

This,  however,  is  not  the  ground  on  which  I 
rest  the  argument.  I  dare  not  promise  you  im- 
mediate success.  I  know  that  the  reign  of  Mes- 
siah will  come,  because  God  hath  said  it.  But 
whether  it  will  come  in  your  day,  and  be  introduced 
by  your  exertions,  I  know  not. 

Instead,  therefore,  of  encouraging  you  by  such 
assurances,  I  propose  a  consideration  of  a  diflferent 
kind — a  consideration,  which  must  subvert  every 
objection  which  avarice  or  infidelity  can  suggest  -, 
it  is  this  ; 

That  to  fail  after  having  made  sincere  endeavors 
in  so  good  a  cause,  will  be  glorious. 

Zechariah  did  not  succeed  in  reforming  Israel, 
but  fell  between  the  porcli  and  the  altar.  He  fell, 
however,  covered  with  glory,  and  his  name  stands 
conspicuous  on  the  li^t  of  martyrs.  Wickliflf  did 
hot  succeed  in  rending  th.e  veil  of  Papal  supersti. 


164 

tion,  and  yet  the  attempt  added  celebrity  to  his 
life,  and  in  the  bosom  of  the  church  embahned  his 
memory.  But  why  do  I  mention  these  instances  ! 
Jesus  Cltrist  himself  did  not  succeed  in  his  mission  to 
the  Jews.  But  though  fsrael  were  not  gathered,  yet 
was  he  glorious  in  the  eyes  of  the  Lord,  and  in 
the  e}es  of  all  his  people. 

There  are  those  who  exclaim,  wdienever  the  sal- 
vation of  the  heathen  is  proposed,  There  is  a  Lion 
in  the  way.  And  were  it  so,  this  would  not  diminish 
the  propriety,  nor  w^ould  even  failure  mar  the  glory 
of  the  attempt. 

The  interposition  of  the  Son  of  God  in  behalf 
of  sinners,  is  the  highest  act  of  benevolence  that 
the  universe  ever  saM'.  Redemption  by  the  cross 
— how  admirable,  Iioav  passing  admiration.  Crea- 
tion assumes  fresh  loveliness,  and  the  Cieatcr 
shines  in  brighter  glories  wherever  it  is  published . 
What  then  must  be  the  glory  of  its  publishers  ? 
What  their  glory  who  contribute  to  its  public.i- 
tion. 

God,  from  his  throne,  beholds  not  a  nobler 
character  on  his  footstool,  than  the  ferment  mission- 
ary, the  man,  who  inspired  with  zeal,  and  burning 
with  love,  bids  adieu  to  his  friends,  abandons  his 
comfort,  and  his  home,  braves  the  perils  of  the 
deep,  encounters  hunger  and  thirst,  and  naked- 
ness, and  persevering  through  dangers  and  deaths, 
proclaims  the  Savior  to  those  Avho  kno^v  him 
not. 


165 

Yes  !  venerable  messengers  of  salvation,  who 
preach  Christ  in  deserts,  and  publish  glad  tidings  on 
the  islands  of  distant  seas,  ue  admire  your  zeal ; 
we  emulate  your  virtue,  and  by  contributing  to 
the  object  in  which  you  arc  engaged,  would  be- 
come   partakers    in  your   glory  ;   and  partakers   we 

shall  be  if  we  truly  aspire  to  it. In  the  estima^ 

tion  of  heaven  our  services  are  appreciated,  not  by 
the  good  we  accomplish,  but  the  sincerity,  the 
strength,  and  constancy  of  our  exertions. 

Cease,  then.  Christians  to  object  ;  act  worthy  of 
yourselves,  and  remember  that  "  they  that  be  wise 
shall  shine  as  the  brightness  of  the  firmament,  and 
they  that  turn  many  unto  righteousness,  as  the  stars, 
for  ever  and  ever.'' 

Convinced  of  your  duty,  do  you  ask  how,  situated 
at  a  distance,  as  you  arc,  you  can  contribute  to  the 
alleviation  of  Pagan  misery  ?  How  ? 

By  your  prayers.  God  hath  promised  that  the 
Gentiles  shall  be  gathered  in.  He  is  hastening  to 
accomplish  what  he  hath  promised,  and  yet  for 
this  will  he  "  be  enquired  of  by  the  house  of  Israel." 
Wherefore,  "  ye  that  make  mention  of  the  Lord, 
keep  not  silence,  and  give  him  no  rest,  till  he 
establish,  and  till  he  make  Jerusalem  a  praise  in  the 
earth." 

By  your  property.  To  Christianize  the  heathen, 
as  well  as  to  succour  your  destitute  brethren  on  the 
frontiers,  missionaries  must  be  sent  to  tliem  ;  these 


Iff6 

missionaries  will  be  tlie  channels  of  your  kind- 
ness. But  missionaries  cannot  be  maintained  by 
prayers  ;  you  must  give  of  your  property  :  without 
this,  your  prayers  will  be  unavaling.  Curst  be 
that  charity  which  says  to  the  hungry,  be  ye  fed ; 
to  the  naked,  be  ye  cloathed,  and  to  Pagans  be  ye 
saved,  and  relieves  them  not. 

Here  then  I  come  to  the  conclusion  of  this  dis- 
course. Your  love  for  Jesus,  your  concern  for  souls, 
is  now  to  be  tested  by  your  contributions  for  their 
relief. 

The  Savior  could  easily  furnish  means  for  this, 
from  his  own  resources. — He  could  command 
the  heavens  to  supply  the  ambassadors  of  his  grace 
with  bread,  and  the  Hinty  rock  to  furnish  them 
with  water.  But,  it  is  more  blessed  to  give  than  to 
receive.  This  the  Savior  knows,  and  ha\'ing, 
in  the  profusion  of  his  goodness,  loaded  you  with 
treasure,  he  condescends  to  ask,  and  lo  receive  from 
you,  a  part  of  that  treasure  :  and  this  he  does, 
not  that  He  needs  it,  but  that  you  may  have  an 
opportunity  of  likening  yourselves  to  God  by  the 
imitation  of  his  sublime  munificence,  who  delights 
in  doing  good,  and  whose  tender  mercies  are  over  all 
his  works. 

In  this  light  I  place  the  subject.  And  now  O 
my  God,  what  m.ore  shall  I  say  ?  Can  the  unfeel- 
ing heait  of  man  contemplate  miseries  the  most 
extreme,  ar.d  not  be  moved  ? — From  the  hill  of 
Zicn,  bc3ming     v/ilh   light,    Lird   smiling  wi'h   ];f^, 


167 

let  me  direct  your  view  to  the  vale  of  darkness,  and 
the  shadow  of  death. 

Yonder  are  the  Pagans.  Friends  of  humanity, 
O  that  I  could  describe  to  you  ! — cold,  naked, 
famished,  friendless  ;  roamini^  the  desert,  burnins* 
with  revenge,  and  thirsting  for  blood. — 

Yonder  are  the  Pagans.  Friends  of  Immanuel,  O 
that  I  could  describe  them  to  you,  assembled  on  the 
ground  of  enchantment,  practising  the  delusions 
of  witchcraft,  insulting  the  heavens  by  the  sacri- 
fice of  dogs,  and  paying  their  impious  adorations 
at  the  shrines  of  devils  ! 

From  these  profane  devotions,  the  hoary  warrior 
retires.  His  steps  totter  with  age,  he  reaches  the 
threshold  of  his  hut,  and  sinks  beneath  infirmities, 
on  the  cold  earth,  his  bed  of  death.  No  sympatliiz- 
ing  friend  partakes  in  his  misery,  no  filial  hand  is 
stretched  out  for  his  relief.  The  wife  of  his  youth 
has  forsaken  him, — his  daughters  are  carried  camive, 
— his  sons  have  been  slain  in  battle.  Exhausted 
with  sufferings,  and  weary  of  life,  he  turns  his  eye 
upon  the  grave.  But  the  griive  to  him  is  dark 
and  silent.  Not  a  whisper  of  comfort  is  heard  from 
its    caverns,    or   a   beam    of    light    glitters    on    its 

gloom. Here    the    curtain    drops,    time  ceases, 

eternity  begins  :  Mighty  God,  how  awful  is  the 
scene  v/hich  follows  !  But  I  dare  not  attempt  to 
lift  the  vail  that  covers  it.  A  moment  since,  and 
this  immortal  soul  was  within  the  reach  of  prayer  : 
now  its  destiny  is  fixed,  and  just,  eternal  sovereign  !. 
are  thy  decisions.     From,  that  bourn  beyond  wliich 


168 


.submission  is  our  only  duty,  turn  again  to  the  living- 
\vorId,  where  your  prayers  and  exertions  may  be  avail- 


ui 


\ 


5- 


Is  there  a  father  in  this  assembly,  who,  liigh  in  the 
hopes  of  heaven,  brings  his  infant  offsDring  to  these 
altars,  and  places  them  by  faith  in  the  arms  of 
Jesus  ?  I  plead  in  behalf  of  fathers  who  have  nev- 
er heard  of  heaven,  and  whose  offspring  have  no  Sa-^ 
vior. 

Is  there  a  mother  in  this  assembly,  blessed  by  the 
affection  of  her  husband,  and  solaced  by   the   smile5> 
of  her  daughters  ?    I  plead  in  behalf  of  mothers,, 
whose  husbands  are  tyrants,  and  whose  daughters  arc. 
slaves. 

Could  I  believe,  that  dead  to  the  stranger's 
sufferings,  y:>u  needed  kindred  objects  to  awaken 
your  sympathy,  and  open  your  hearts  to  charity, 
I  would  here  direct  your  attention  to  tlie  frontier 
settlements,  and  beseech  you  by  the  strength  of 
parental  affection,  by  the  tenderness  of  fraternal 
love,  though  deaf  to  our  intreaties  for  the  Pa- 
gans, at  least  to  hear  us  in  behalf  of  Christians, 
of  your  children,  your  brethren,  your  kindred  with 
whom  you  once  took  sweet  counsel,  and  walked  to 
the  house  of  God  in  company  :  but  who,  now  re- 
moved far  from  the  pleasant  habitations  of  Zion, 
without  a  temple  and  without  an  altar,  wander  in  the 
deserts  of  Hermon,  and  pour  out  their  complaints 
on  the  hill  of  Mizar,  "  How  amiable  are  tliy  taberna- 


169 

cles  O  Lord  of  hosts.  My  soul  longeth,  yea  even 
fainteth,  for  the  courts  of  the  Lord  ;  my  heart  and 
my  flesh  erieth  out  for  the  living  God." 

But  I  will  not  beheve  that  you  are  dead  to  the 
strangets  sufferings.  I  blend  therefore  the  inter^ 
ests  of  Pagans  with  the  interest  of  your  kindred. 
I  add  together  their  miseries,  and  by  the  vastness 
of  the  amount  implore  your  assistance. 

In  advocating  such  a  cause,  the  cause  of  humanity, 
the  cause  of  Emmanuel,  you  will  pardon  my  im- 
portunity. What  am  I  saying  ?  Would  to  God 
I  were  capable  of  being  as  importunate  as  the  cause 
i  advocate  demands.  O  that  I  could  infuse  into  my 
words  the  ardor  which  I  feel.  But  I  cannot. 
Ah  ye  wretched  aliens  from  the  commonwealth 
of  Israel  ;  ye  strangers  from  the  covenants  of  pro- 
mise, who  have  no  hope  and  are  without  God  in 
the  world,  my  heart  melts  within  me  at  the  recol- 
lection of  your  danger,  and  my  mind  fills  with  mo- 
tives to  charity  too  big  for  utterance. 

•  Brethren,  have  you  sufficiently  considered  the 
duration  of  eternity  ^    have  you  duly  appieciated 

the    value   of  the  soul  ?    if  not,  pause, In  the 

name  of  God,  I  adjure  you,  pause,  and  reflect  on 
both,  before  you  bring  your  ofierings  to  the  altar. 
The  narrow  isthmus  which  intervenes  between 
you  and  the  world  of  spirits,  is  already  sinking  : 
presently  death  will  have  swallowed  it  up  for  ever  ! 
Let  your  thoughts  carry  you  beyond  it ;  lose  your- 
selves m  the   immensity  of  those  ages  which  have 

22 


170 

no  end. — Ages  which  the  soul  inherits,  and  dur- 
ing which  its  powers  encrease,  its  capacity  of  hap- 
piness and  misery  expands,  and  e:>pands,  and  ex- 
pands, till,  (overwhelming  diought,)  it  is  capable 
of  enjoying  the  joys,  or  of  suffering  the  miseries  <0 
a  world. 

Such  souls  those  probationers  possess,  in  whose 
behalf  I  now  address  you.  To  that  eternity,  v/ith 
which  your  minds  are  filled,  they  are  hastening. 
Before  tliey  launch  into  it,  look  up  to  heaven,  and 
see  the  preparations  grace  is  making,  and  the  glory 
to  which  grace  is  waiting  to  receive  them  ;  the  crown 
of  life — the  presence  of  God  in  which  there  is  full- 
ness of  joy,  and  at  whose  right  hand  are  pleasures 
for  evermore. 

Before  they  launch  into  it,  look  down  to  hell,  and 
see  the  punishments  with  which  justice  threatens 
them ;  take  one  deep  and  solemn  view  of  that  fire, 
which  is  never  quenched,  and  of  that  worm,  in  the 
midst  of  it,  which  never  dies  !  Ah  me,  what  a  spec- 
tacle of  woe  !  venting  unavailing  cries  to  a  de- 
vouring flame,  and  pouring  out  vain  complaints  to 
an  unpitying  dungeon  ;  which,  when  the  sufferer 
asks.  How  long?  echoes  back,  eternity.  Ages 
heaped  on  ages  intervene  ;  again  the  sufferer  asks, 
How  long  ?  and  again  is  echoed  back  Eterni- 
ty! 

Before  theij  latmch  into  it,  go  to  Calvary,  approach 
the  cross,  listen  to  the  groans,  and  fill  your  minds 
w4th  the  idea  of  the  great  Emmanuel  agonizing  on  it. 


171 

Xhen  estimate  the  value  of  those  souls  by  the  gran- 
deur of  the  victim  slain  for  their  reJemption,  and 
having  made  the  estimation,  and  before  you  leave 
the  cross,  say,  will  you  suffer  them  to  perish  through 
neglect. 

Perhaps,  by  our  charities  this  evening,  we  shall 
reclaim  some  profligate — perhaps  we  may  convert 
one  Pagan,  and  should  we  one,  (my  heart  burns 
within  me  while  I  make  the  supposition,)  who 
among  us  will  begrudge  the  pittance  le  has  given  ? 
Let  me  indulge  the  thought — a  convert  mad^  by  the 
charities  of  this  evening  — no  matter  whether  an 
Albion,  an  .thiopian,  or  an  Indian — no  matter  from 
what  ancestry  descended,  in  what  rites  instructed, 
or  by  what  principles  of  vice  corrupted  ;  and  tell 
me,  O  believer,  what  will  your  emotions  be,  when 
entering  the  world  of  spirits,  and  opening  your 
eyes  on  the  redeemed  of  all  nations,  you  shall  see 
among  them,  one  soul  whom  your  charity  hath 
saved  ?  What  will  your  emotions  be,  when  that 
soul,  first  of  all,  shall  fly  to  your  embrace,  and 
welcome  your  arrival  ?  What,  when  conducting 
you  to  the  throne  of  eternal  majesty,  and  in  the 
presence  of  that  Divinity,  which  sits  upon  it,  he 
shall  say,  "  To  this  man,  under  thee  great  Emman. 
uel,  am  I  ind<.bted  for  this  crown  of  life,  which 
glitters  on  my  head,  and  this  palm  of  victory,  which 
blossoms  in  my  hand."  Moment  of  unutterable 
extacy  !  Angels,  could  Angels  covtt,  might  emu- 
late your  bliss,  and  sigh  to  become  partakers  in 
it.. 


172  „ 

But  great  as  the  joy  of  this  moment  is,  k  fa 
not  greater  than  will  be  the  glory  which  follows 
it.  To  the  man  who  had  saved  the  life  of  a  Roman 
citizen,  wis  presented  the  civic  crown,  the  highest  of 
earthly  honors  :  but  of  what  insignia  shall  he  b^ 
accounted  worthy,  who  has  saved  a  soul  from  death, 
and  restored  a  citizen  to  heaven  ?  I  cannot  answer 
this  interrogation  !  and  I  exult  at  the  idea  that  I 
cannot ;  because  my  inability  to  give  an  answer,  re- 
sults from  the  sublimity  of  ;those  symbols  in  whi^U 
the  apswer  is  contained. 

But  I  will  not  confine  my  hopes  to  a  single  in= 
dividual.  Our  charity  may  do  more,  it  may  re- 
claim many  profligates  ;  it  may  convert  many  Pa- 
gans ;  these  may  reclaim  and  convert  others,  and 
these  again,  in  their  turn,  may  continue  to  reclaim 
and  to  convert  :  and  thus  the  hei.evolence  of  a 
single  Christian  assembly,  collected  from  different 
denominations,  but  actuated  b}^  the  spirit  of  their 
common  Master,  may  be  extended  to  distnt 
countries,  and  operate  benignly  on  succeeding 
generations,  till  the  kingdom  of  Christ  shall 
come. 

This  kingdom,  Christians,  is  at  hand,  let  us  an, 
tieipate  its  glory  ;  let  U3  fill  our  minds  with  ideas 
of  its  duration  and  extent ;  let  us  endeavour  to  has- 
ten its  approach  ;  let  us  invite  by  our  charities  and 
our  prayers,  the  Savior  from  the  skies  ;  let  us  show 
that  we  are  willing  to  receive  him  on  the  earth, 
and,  placing  on  his  altar  the  humble  means  which 
^,ve  are  ^ble  to  furnish,  for  adi'ancing  his  interest,. 


178 

with  one  general  burst  of  passion,  that  shall  fill 
the  heavens,  and  reach  the  place  where  His  Glory 
dwelleth,    let    us  say,  "  Come    Lord    Jesus,    come 

quickly." 1  pause,  not  because  the  subject 

is  exhausted,  for  it  expands,  and  expands,  as  I 
contemplate  it — not  because  I  fear  that  an  auditory 
of  Christians  can  already  be  weary  of  such  a  con- 
templation ;  but  the  delightful  duty  of  charity  re- 
mains to  be  performed,  and  I  pause  that  I  may  give 
place  to  the  performance  of  it. 

Brethren,  the  vast  objects  which  the  plan  of  re- 
deeming love  contemplates,  are  now  before  you,  and 
you  are  about  to  contribute  to  carry  that  plan  into 
further  execution.     Before  you  cast  your  gifts  into 
the  treasury,    permit  me  to  propose  a  single    in- 
terrogatory :  It  is  not  whether  the   objects  be  im- 
portant ?  your  hearts  testify  that  they  are  so.     Nei- 
ther is  it,  how  much  you  now  feel  as  if  you  could 
afford  to  give  ?  but  how  much,  at  the  day  of  judg- 
ment, standing  at  the  bar  of  Jesus,  eternity  spread 
•ut  before  you,  the  grandeur  of  the  world  perished, 
and  not  a  vestige  of  all  that  you  once  possessed, 
except  the  charities  you  may  have  laid  up  in  heaven, 
remaining — then  when    the   loans  made    unto    the 
poor,  for  which  God  became   responsible,   are  re- 
paying— when  the  poor    widow,    approaching,    re- 
ceives for    her    two    mites,    infinite   remuneration, 
and  to  the  disciple,  who  gave  but  a  cup  of  water, 
because   he  had  no  more  to   give,   is  awarded  an 
inheritance  among  the  saints — then,   when  looking 
1?ack  in  thought  on  this  evening,  which  furnished 


174 

such  a  glorious  opportunity  for  evincing  your  love 
to  Jesus,  and  signalizing  yourselves  by  deeds  of 
charity;  How  much  will  you  xvish  that  7jou.  had  giv- 
fn  ?  To  conscience  I  appeal — to  the  day  of  judg- 
ment I  refer  you.  Exhibit  now  the  hberality  you 
will  then  approve,  and  reprobate  now  the  parsimony 
you  will  then  condemn. 

Yes,  in  the  light  of  that  day,  as  if  earth  were  al- 
ready  dissolved,  the  heavens  departed,  and  the 
judgment  seat  of  Christ  erected,  let  each  according 
to  his  ability,  and  with  reference  to  the  Avhole 
amount,  so  desirable  to  raise,  make  an- apportion- 
ment. 

Let  the  mechanic  say  how  much  of  the  scantj- 
fruits  of  his  labour,  he  w  11  consecrate  to  succor 
destitute  settlements — how  much  to  send  mission- 
aries to  the  Pagans.  Let  the  merchant,  whose 
Vvcalth  flows  fiom  a  thousand  sources,  and  whose 
property  Heats  on  distant  seas,  say  how  much  of 
the  profits  of  his  ti-ade.  Let  the  advocate  at  the 
bar,  say  how  much  of  his  fees.  Let  the  minister 
of  the  altar  say  how  much  of  his  salary.  Let  the 
magistrate  say  how  much  of  the  income  of  his 
office.  Let  the  man,  whose  dwelling  has  just 
been  consumed,  say  how  much  of  the  remnant 
of  his  property,  which  was  raked  from  the 
ashes.* — And     the     man,     whose      dwelling     has 


*  A  few  days  before  the  sermon  was  delivered,  about  thirty  build- 
5>io;s  wei'e  consumed  by  fire,  in  Philadelphia,  and  liberal  contribu- 
t':i)n.s  have  just  been  mads  for  the  relif  of  the  suflerers. 


175 

been  preserved,  when  flames  encircled  and  cmdcrs 
covered  it — the  man,  who  hath  passed,  litenll}'. 
with  his  fi\mily  and  fortune  through  the  fire,  and 
it  hath  not  kindled  on  him,  let  him  siy  how 
much  of  that  fortune  he  will  consecrate  as  a  testi- 
mony of  his  charity,  and  an  expression  of  his  fuith 
hi  God. 

Were  I  addressing  an  auditory  unaccustomed  to 
feel  for  human  misery,  whose  stinted  pity  was  cruel, 
and  the  stream  of  whose  charity  congealed  as  it 
Howed,  after  the  repeated  calls  upon  your  bountv, 
which  have  been  made  the  last  week,  I  should 
despair  of  success,  but  I  am  not  addressing  such 
an  auditory  ;  though  a  stranger,  I  am  not  ignorant, 
that  Philadelphia,  like  that  primitive  city  whose 
name  it  bears,  is  famed  for  deeds  of  mercy.  With 
unutterable  emotions,  I  have  visited  yonder  con- 
secrated grounds,  on  which  stand  assyiums  for  tlic 
poor,  and  the  wretched — illustrious  jignij. 
ME  NTS,  which  your  charity  has  erected — monu- 
ments, not  like  the  pyramids  of  Egypt,  which 
cherished  a  vain,  self-glory  ;  not  like  the  temples^ 
of  Greece,  which  fostered  a  cruel  superstition, 
but  left  at  their  threshold,  the  unpitied  sufferer  to- 
converse  with  sighs,  and  tears,  and  v/ictcliedness,  and 
death. 

And  can  it  be  that  the  tender  mercies  of  aiich 
an  auditory  are  exhausted  ?  Have  you,  then  nothing 
more  to  lend  to  Jesus  Christ :  liave  '',  ou  no  lon^-cr 
any  alms  to  bestow  on  your  suffering  brethren, 
i^rvd  shall  I  tell  them  you  have  not  ;  shall  I  recall 


176  \ 

the  iTiiSoionaries  you  have  sent  them,  and  extiii» 
guish  the  hopes  with  which  your  former  charities 
have  inspired  them  ?  Shall  I  pronounce  on  tlie  sa- 
vages their  doom,  shall  I  say  to  the  Pagan,  just 
emerging  from  the  gloom  of  nature,  and  directing 
his  steps  toward  the  hill  of  life,    go    back  into 

YOUR  FOREST,  COVER  AGAIN  YOUR  ALTAR  WITH 
VICTIMS,  MUTTER  YOUR  NIGHTLY  ORISONS  TO 
THE  STARS,  AND  BE  SATISFIED  WITH  THE  VAIN 
HOPE     Of      THE     COUNTRY     BEYOND    THE     HILJLS  ?* 

Are  these  the  sentiments  of  Christiails — Christians, 
whose  hearts  have  been  softened  by  redeeming 
love,  whose  immortal  hopes  rest  on  sovereign 
mercy,  and  whose  unceasing  song,  through  eter- 
nal ages  will  be,  grace,  rich  grace.  I  was  going 
to  add,  but  the  presence  of  that  august  personage^ 
whose  glory  fills  the  place  of  our  devotions,  awes 
me.  Open  your  eyes  Christians,  and  behold  God- 
Emmanuel  in  this  assembly.  Redeemer  of  our  souls, 
who  inhabitest  eternity,  and  dwellest  in  the  high 
and  holy  place,  wherefore  art  thou  present  in  this 
temple,  made  with  hands  ?  "  I  am  present  that  I 
itiay  witness  the  strength  of  the  affection  which  my 
redeemed  bear  me — that  I  may  in  person  record 
their  charities,  in  that  book  of  life,  where  their  names 
already  are  recorded — characters,  which  I  will  pub- 
lish to  the  universe  at  judgment,  and  reward,  through 
eternity,  in  heaven." 

Motives  are  now  unnecessary — a  sense  of  that  di- 
vinity which  overshadows  us,  melts  every  heart  to 
love  aixl  swells  every  breast  with  mercy. 


177 

Go,  then,  ye  collectors  for  the  wretched,  receive 
the  alms  of  a  people,  already  moved  with  pity,  and 
emulous  to  excel  in  deeds  of  charity. 

Almighty  God,  help  us  so  to  act  on  this  occasion 
as  shall  meet  thine  approbation,  and  to  thy  name 
shall  be  the  glory  in  Christ, — Amen. 


S5 


baccalaureate  ^trDte^i^e^. 


AN 


ADDRESS, 

DELIVERED    TO    THE 

CANDIDATES 

FOR    THE 

BACCALAUREATE, 

IN 

llXnion  CoHegf, 

AT   THB 

ANNIVERSARY  COMMENCEMENT 

MAY  1st,  1805. 
BY  ELIPHALET  NOTT, 

PRBSIDBNT    OP     UKION    COLLEGE. 


/^. 


ADDRESS. 


Young  gentlemen,  this  day  closes  your  col- 
legiate life.  You  have  continued  the  term,  and  com- 
pleted the  course  of  studies  prescribed  in  this  insti- 
tution. You  have  received  its  honors,  and  are  nou" 
to  go  forth  adventurers,  unsuspecting  perhaps,  and 
certainly  inexperienced,  into  a  fascinating  but  illusive 

world,  where  honor  flaunts  in  fictitious  trappings 

where  wealth  displays  imposing  charms,  and  pleasure 
spreads  her  impoisoned  banquets.  And  (hat  too,  at 
a  period  v/hen  the  passions  are  most  ungovernable, 
when  the  fancy  is  most  vi^'id,  when  the  blood  fiows 
rapidly  through  the  veins,  and  the  pulse  of  life  beats 
high.  Already  does  the  opening  scene  brighten  as 
you  approach  it,  and  happiness,  smiling  but  deceit- 
ful, passes  before  your  eyes  a:-,  1  beckons  you  to  her 
embrace. 

Called  to  address  you,  at  this  aJecting  crisis,  and 
for  the  last  time,  had  I,  like  the  patriarch  of  the  cast, 
a  blessing  at  m}^  disposal,  hov/  gladly  sliculd  I  be- 
sto\r  it.     Rut  I  have  not  r    and  can  therefore  only 


184 

^dd,  to  the  solicitude  which  I  feel,  my  counsel  and 
my  prayers. 

Permit  me  to  advise  you,  then,  young  gentlemen, 
when  you  leave  this  seminary,  and  even  after  you 
shall  have  chosen  a  profession,  and  entered  on  the 
business  of  life,  still  to  consider  yourselves  only 
learners.  Your  acquirements  here,  though  reputable, 
are  the  first  rudiments  merely  of  an  education  which 
must  be  hereafter  pursued  and  completed.  In  the 
acquisition  of  knowledge  you  are  never  to  be  station- 
'dry,  but  always  progressive.  Nature  has  no  where 
said  to  man,  pressing  forward  in  the  career  of  intel- 
lectual glory,  "  Hitherto  shalt  thou  come  but  no  fur- 
ther." Under  God,  therefore,  it  depends  upon  3-our- 
selves  to  say,  how  great — how  wise — how  useful 
you  will  be.  Men  of  moderate  talents,  by  a  course 
of  patient  application,  have  often  risen  to  the  highest 
eminence,  and  standing  far  aboA^e  where  the  momen- 
tary sallies  of  uncultivated  genius  ever  reach,  have 
plucked  from  the  lofty  cliff  its  deathless  laurel.  In- 
deed, to  the  stature  of  the  mind,  no  boundary  is  set. 
You  I  bodies,  originally  from  the  earth,  soon  reach 
their  greatest  elevation,  and  bend  downwards  again 
towards  that  earth  out  of  whicli  tliey  were  taken. 
But  the  inner  man,  that  sublime,  that  rational,  that 
immortal  inhabitant  which  pervades  your  bosoms,  if 
sedulously  fostered,  v.ili  expand  and  elevate  itself, 
till  touching  the  earth,  it  can  look  above  the  clouds 
and  reach  beyond  the  stars. 

Go,   then,   and  emulous    to    excel    in    wliatever 
is  splendid,  m-agnanimous  and  great  j  with  New- 


185 

TON,  span  the  heavens,  and  number  and  measure 
the  orbs  which  decorate  them — With  Locke, 
analyze  the  human  mind — With  Boyle,  examine 
the  regions  of  organic  nature.  In  one  word,  go  ; 
and  with  the  great,  and  the  wise,  and  the  good, 
of  all  nations,  and  all  ages,  ponder  the  mysteries 
of  Infinite  Wisdom,  and  traCe  the  Everlasting- 
in  his  word,  and  in  his  v/orks.  A  wide  and  un- 
bounded prospect  spreads  itself  before  you  :  in 
every  point  of  which,  DIVINITY  shines  conspi- 
cuous, and  on  which  ever  side  you  turn  your  enrap- 
tured eyes,  surrounded  with  uncreated  majesty,  and 
'seen  in  the  light  of  his  own  glory,  GOD  ap- 
pears. He  leads  the  way  before  yon,  and  sheds 
radiance  on  his  path,  that  you  may  follow  him. 

Control  and  suhju^ate  your  pass'ons.  Originally, 
order  pervaded  human  nature.  The  bosom  of 
man  was  calm — his  countenance  serene.  Reason 
sat  enthroned  in  his  heart,  and  to  her  control  the 
passions  w^ere  subjected.  But  the  days  of  inno- 
cence are  past,  and  with  them  has  also  past  the 
reign  of  reason.  Phrensy  ensues.  He,  who  was 
once  calm  and  rational,  is  now  blind  and  impetu- 
ous. A  resistless  influence  impels  him.  Conse- 
quences are  disregarded,  and  madly  pressing  for- 
ward to  the  object  of  desire,  he  exclaims,  "  My 
honor,  my  property,  my  pleasure  ;''  but  is  never 
heard  to  say,  "  my  religion,  my  duty,  my  salva- 
tion."* 


*  See  Saurin  on  the  passions. 
23 


186 

While  reason  maintained  her  empire,  the  pas-^ 
sions  were  a  genial  flame,  imparting  warmth  to  the 
system,  and  gently  accelerating  the  circulation  of 
the  blood.  But,  that  empire  subverted,  they  kindle 
into  a  VESUVIUS,  burning  to  its  Centre,  and 
pouring  out  on  every  side,  its  desolating  Uva. 
The  passions,  said  an  inspired  Apostle,  war  against 
the  soul  :  And  the  same  Apostle  who  said  this* 
commands  you  to  overcome  them. 

Cultivate  and  cherish  the  sympathies  of  your  na-^ 
ture.  These,  though  blighted  by  the  apostacy, 
still  retain  the  tints  of  faded  loveliness,  and  when 
sanctified  in  the  heart,  and  unfolded  in  the  life, 
even  of  fallen  man,  they  possess  a  resistless  charm, 
and  furnish  some  faint  idea  of  what  he  must  have 
been  in  a  state  of  innocence. 

For  the  exercise  of  these  sympathies,  in  all  the 
paths  of  life,  you  will  meet  with  pitiable  objects 
who  will  present  their  miseries  to  your  eye,  and 
address  the  moving  eloquence  of  sorrow  to  your 
heart.  Always  listen  to  this  eloquence  ;  always 
pity  this  misery,  and,  if  possible,  relieve  it.  Yes, 
young  gentlemen,  whatever  seas  you  may  navigate, 
or  to  whatever  part  of  the  habitable  world  you  may 
travel,  carry  with  you  your  humanity.  Even  there 
divide  your  morsel  with  the  destitute  ;  advocate 
the  cause  of  the  oppressed ;  to  the  fatherless  be  a 
father,  and  cover  the  shivering  limbs  of  the  naked 
with  your  mantle.  Even  there,  soothe  the  dis- 
consolate, sympathise  with   the  mourner,   brighten 


187 

the  countenance  bedimed  with  sorrow,  and,  like  tlie 
GOD  of  mercy,  shed  happiness  around  you,  and 
banish  misery  before  you. 

In  all  your  intercourse  with  mankind  rigidly 
practice  Justice,  and  scrupulously  adhere  to  truth  ; 
other  duties  vary  with  varjing  circumstances. 
What  would  be  Uberality  in  one  man  would  be 
parsimony  in  another.  What  would  be  valor  on 
one  occasion  would  be  temerity  on  another.  But 
truth  and  justice  are  immutable  and  eternal  prin- 
ciples ;  always  sacred  and  always  applicable.  In 
no  circumstances  however  urgent,  no  crises  however 
awful,  can  there  be  an  aberration  from  the  one  or 
a  dereliction  of  the  other  without  sin.  With  respect 
to  every  thnig  else,  be  accommodating,  but  here 
be  unyielding  and  invincible.  Kather  carry  your 
integrity  to  the  dungeon  or  the  scaffold,  than  receive 
in  exchange  for  it  liberty  dud  life.  Should  you  ever 
be  called  upon  to  make  your  election  between 
these  extremes,  do  not  hesitate.  It  is  better  pre- 
maturely to  De  sent  to  heaven  in  honor,  than,  having 
lingered  on  the  earth,  at  last  to  sink  to  hell  in 
infamy.  In  eve;  y  situaion,  a  dishonest  man  is  de--^ 
testable,  and  a  liar  is  still  more  so, 

I  have  often,  young  gentlemen,  recommended 
to  you,  a  sacred  adherence  to  truth.  I  would  on 
this  occasion  repeat  the  recommendation,  that  I  may 
fix  it  the  more  indelibly  on  your  hearts.  Believe  me, 
M^hen  1  tell  you,  that  on  this  article  you  can  never  b? 
too  scrupulous. 


I8d 

Truth,  is  Ane  of  the  fairest  attributes  of  Deity. 
It  is  the  boundary,  which  separates  vice  from  virtue 
' — The  line,  which  divides  heaven  from  hell.  It 
is  the  chain,  which  binds  the  man  of  integrity  to 
the  throne  of  GOD,  and  like  the  GOD  to  whcse 
throne  it  binds  him,  till  this  chain  is  dissolved, 
his  word  may  be  relied  on.  Suspended  on  this, 
your  property,  your  reputation,  your  life  are  safe. 
But  against  the  malice  of  a  liar,  there  is  no  security. 
He  can  be  bound  by  nothing.  His  soul  is  already 
repulsed  to  a  returnless  distance  from  that  Divinity, 
a  sense  of  whose  presence  is  the  security  of  virttie. 
He  has  sundered  the  last  of  those  moral  ligaments, 
which  bind  a  mortal  to  his  duty.  And  having  done 
so,  through  the  extended  region  of  fraud  and  false- 
liood,  without  a  bond  to  check,  or  a  limit  to  confine 
him,  he  ranges,  the  dreaded  enemy  of  innocence  ; 
whose  lips  pollute  even  truth  itself  as  it  passes 
through  them,  and  whose  breath,  like  the  pestilential 
mists  of  Hades,  blasts,  and  soils,  and  poisons  as  it 
touches. 

Finally,  cherish  and  practise  religion.  Man  has 
been  called,  in  distinction  from  the  inferior  ordei's 
of  creation,  a  religious  being,  and  justly  so  called. 
For  though  his  hopes  and  fears  may  be  repressed, 
and  the  moral  feelings  of  his  heart  stifled  for  a  sea- 
son, nature,  like  a  torrent  which  has  been  obstructed 
will  break  forth  and  sweep  away,  those  frail  barriers 
which  skepticism  may  h^ve  erected  to  divert  its 
course. 


189 

There  is  something  so  repulsive  in  naked  Infidel- 
ity, that  the  mind  approaches  it  with  reluctance, 
shrinks  back  from  it  with  horror,  and  is  never  settled 
till  it  rests  on  positive  religion. 

I  am  aware  that  that  spirit  of  devotion,  that  sense 
of  guilt  and  dread  of  punishment,  which  pervades  the 
hutnan  mind,  have  been  attributed  to  either  the  force 
of  habit  or  the  inftuence  of  superstition.  Let  the 
appeal  be  made  to  human  nature.  To  the  posi- 
tion of  irreligionists  on  this  article,  human  nature 
itself  furnishes  the  most  satisfactory  refutation.  Re- 
ligion is  a  first  principle  of  man.  It  shoots  up 
from  the  very  seat  of  life,  it  cleaves  to  the  human 
constitution  by  a  thousand  ligaments,  it  entwines 
around  human  nature  and  sends  to  the  very  bottom 
of  the  heart  its  penetrating  tendrils.  It  cannot  there- 
fore be  exterminated.  'i  he  experiment  has  again 
and  again  been  tried,  and  the  result  has  always  prov- 
ed worthy  of  the  rash  attempt. 

Young  as  you  are,  you  have  witnessed,  with  a 
view  to  this  extermination,  the  most  desperate  efforts. 
But  just  now,  a  formidable  host  of  infuriate  infidels 
were  assembled.  You  heard  them  openly  abjure 
their  GOD.  You  saw  them  wreaking  their  ven- 
geance on  religion.  For  a  season  they  triumphed. 
Before  them  every  sacred  institution  disappeared — 
every  consecrated  monument  fell  to  dust.  The  fer- 
vors of  naiure  were  extinguished,  and  the  lip  of  de- 
votion palsied  by  their  approach.  With  one  hand, 
they  seized  the  thunders  of  the  heavens,  and  with 
the   other,    smote  HIS  throne  who  inhabits  them. 


190 

It  seemed  to  crumble  at  the  stroke.' — Mounting  th^se 
lancied  ruins.  Blasphemy  v\'aved  its  terrific  seep, 
tre,  and  impiously  looking  up  to  those  eternal 
heights  where  the  Deity  resides,  exclaimed,  "Vic- 
tory !" 

Where  now  are  those  dreaded  enemies  of  our 
religion  ?  They  have  vanished  from  the  sight.  They 
were — but  are  seen  no  more.  Nor  have  the  con- 
sequences of  their  exertions  been  more  abiding.  A 
great  nation  indeed,  delivered  from  the  restraints  of 
moral  obligation,  and  enfranchised  with  all  the  liber- 
ties of  infidelity,  were  proclaimed  free.  But  have 
they  continued  so  ?  No ;  their  minds  presently  re- 
coiled from  the  dismal  waste  which  skepticism  had 
opened  before  them,  and  the  cheerless  darkness  it 
lud  spread  around  them.  They  suddenly  arrested 
their  step.  They  retraced,  in  sadness  and  sorrow, 
the  patlis  which  they  had  trodden.  They  conse'crat- 
ed  again  the  temples  they  had  defiled :  they"  rebuilt 
the  altar  they  had  demolished :  they  sighed  for  the 
return  of  that  religion  they  had  biinished,  and  spon- 
taneously promised  submission  to  its  reign. 

"What  are  we  to  infer  from  this  ?  Tliat  religion 
h  congenial  to  human  nature — that  it  is  inseparable 
from  it.  A  nation  may  be  seduced  into  skepticism, 
but  it  cannot  be  continued  in  it.  Why,  I  would  ask 
i-.as  religion  existed  in  the  v/orld  in  ages  which  are 
pr.st — why  does  it  exist  nov/ — why  will  it  exist  in 
<;[:;es  to  come  ?  Is  it  because  kings  have  or-dained, 
and  priests  defended  it  P  No  ;  but  because  GOD 
I'ormed  man  to  be  rcIis,ior!S.     Its  ii;reat  and  eternal 


.191 

princlpler*,  are  inscribed  on  his  heart ;  they  are  in- 
scribed, in  characters  wliich  are  indelible  ;  nor  cm 
the  violence  of  infidelity  blot  them  out.  Obscured 
indeed  they  may  be  by  the  influence  of  sin,  and 
remain  not  legible  during  the  rage  of  passion.  But 
a  calm  ensues  :  the  calm  of  reason,  or  the  nio-ht 
of  adversity,  from  the  midst  of  whose  darkness,. 
a  light  proceeds  which  renders  the  original  in- 
scription visible.  Man  now  turns  his  eye  inwr-rd 
upon  himself.  He  reads  "  Responsibility,"  and 
as  he  reads,  he  feels  a  s-nse  of  sin  and  dread  of 
punishment.  He  now  pays  from  necessity  an 
homage  to  religion — an  hiomage  which  cannot  be 
withheld  :  it  is  the  homage  of  his  nature.  We  have 
now  traced  the  effect  to  iis  cause,  and  referred  this 
abiding  trait  in  the  human  character,  to  its  prin- 
ciple. 

The  question  is  not,  then,  whether  you  will  em- 
brace religion  ?  Religion  you  must  embrace — but 
whether  you  will  embrace  revealed  religion,  or  tiiat 
of  erring  and  blind  philosophy.  And  with  respect  to 
this  question  can  you  hesitate  ? 

The  former  has  infmitely  more  to  recommend  it 
than  the  latter.  It  originated  in  heaven.  It  is  found- 
ed, not  on  conjecture,  but  on  fact.  Divinity  mani- 
fested itself  in  the  person,  and  shone  in  the  life  of  it«5 
Author.  True,  he  appeared  in  great  humility  ;  but: 
though  the  humility  in  which  he  appeared  had  been 
greater  than  it  was,  either  the  sublimity  of  his  doc- 
trines, or  the  splendor  of  his  actions  had  be.i'i  sufli- 
eient  to  evince  his  Messiahship,  and  prove  that  ht 


192 

was  the  Savior  of  the  world.  He  spoke  as  man 
never  spoke  !  Whence  did  he  derive  Wisdom  so 
transcendant  ?  From  reason  ?  No  ;  reason  could  not 
give  it,  for  it  had  it  not  to  give.  What  reason  could 
never  teach,  the  Gospel  teaches  :  that  in  the  vast  and 
perfect  government  of  the  universe,  vicarious  suffer' 
ings  can  be  accepted  ;  and  that  the  dread  Sovereign, 
who  administers  that  government,  is  gracious  as  well 
as  just.  Nor  does  it  rest  in  declaration  merely — It 
exhibits  before  our  eyes  the  altar  and  the  victim — the 
LAMB  of  GOD,  which  taketh  away  the  sins  of  the 
world. 

The  introduction  of  Christianity,  was  called 
the  coming  of  the  kingdom  of  Heaven.  No  terms 
could  have  been  more  appropriate  ; — For  through  it 
man  shared  the  mercy,  and  from  it  caught  the  spirit 
of  the  heavens.  The  moral  gloom  which  shrouded 
the  nations,  receded  before  it.  The  temples  of  su- 
perstition and  of  cruelty,  consecrated  by  its  entrance, 
became  the  asylum  of  the  wretched,  and  resounded 
with  their  anthems  of  a:race. 

Most  benign  hasbeen  the  influence  of  Cliristianity, 
and  were  it  cordially  received,  and  universally  sub- 
mitted to,  war  would  cease  ;  injustice  be  banished, 
and  primeval  happiness  revisit  the  earth.  Every  in- 
habitant, pleased  with  his  situation,  resigned  to  his 
lot,  and  full  of  the  hopes  of  heaven,  would  pass  agree- 
ably through  life,  and  meet  death  without  a  sigh. 

Is  the  morality  of  the  Gospel  pre-eminently 
excellent  ?    so  is  its  object  pre-eminently  glorious. 


193 

Philosophy,  confines  its  views  to  this  world  principal- 
ly. It  endeavors  to  satisfy  man  with  the  groveling^ 
joys  of  earth,  till  he  returns  to  that  dust  out  of  which 
he  was  taken.  Christianity,  takes  a  nobler  flight. 
Her  course  is  directed  to>vards  iinniortality.  Thither 
she  conducts  her  votary,  and  never  forsakes  him,  till, 
having  introduced  hi  ii  into  the  society  of  angels,  she 
fixes  his  eternal  residence  among  the  spirits  of  the 
just. 

Philosophy,  can  only  heave  a  sigh,  a  longing  sigh, 
after  immortality.  Eternity  is  to  her  an  unknown 
vast,  over  which  she  soars  on  conjecture's  trembling 
wing.  Above — beneath — around — is  an  unfathom- 
able void  ;  and  doubt,  uncertainty,  or  despair,  are  the 
result  of  all  her  enquiries. 

Christianity,  on  the  other  hand,  having  furnished 
all  necessary  information  concerning  life,  with  firm 
and  undaunted  step,  crosses  death's  nan-ow  isthmus, 
and  boldly  launches  forth  into  that  dread  futurity 
which  borders  on  it.  Her  path  is  marked  with  glo- 
ry. The  once  dark,  dreary  region  brightens  as  she 
approaches  it,  and  benignly  smiles  as  she  passes 
over  it. — Faith  follows  where  she  advances ;  till 
reaching  the  summit  of  everlasrinj^-  hills,  an  unknown 
scene,  in  endless  v.  rleties  of  loveliness  and  beauty, 
presents  itself,  over  which  the  ravished  eye  lA-anders, 
without  a  cloud  to  dim,  or  a  limit  to  obstruct  it»^ 
sight.  In  the  midst  of  this  scene,  rendered  luminous 
by  the  glory  which  covers  it,  the  city — the  palace — • 
the  THRONE  of  GOD  appears.  Trees  of  life 
wave  their  ambrosial  tops  around  it  i    rivers  of  salva  • 

25 


194 

tion  issue  from  beneath  it.  Before  it,  angels  touch 
their  harps  of  Uving  melody,  and  saints,  in  sweet 
response,  breathe  forth  to  the  listening  heavens  their 
grateful  songs.  The  breezes  of  Paradise  waft  the 
symphony,  and  the  bending  sky  directs  it  to  the 
earth.  The  redeemed  of  the  Lord,  catch  the  dis- 
tant sound,  and  feel  a  sudden  rapture.  'Tis  the  voice 
of  departed  Friendship — friendship,  the  loss  of  which 
they  mourn  upon  the  earth,  but  which  they  are  now 
assured  will  be  restored  in  the  heavens :  from  whence 
a  voice  is  heard  to  say,  "  Fear  not  ye,  death  cannot 
injure  you  ;  the  grave  cannot  confine  you  :  through 
its  chill  mansion,  grace  will  conduct  you  up  to 
glory.  We  wait  your  a^ri^'al — haste,  therefore,  come 
away."  All  this  Christianity  will  do  for  you.  It 
will  do  more  than  this  :  It  consecrates  the  sepulchre, 
into  which  your  bodies,  already  touched  by  death, 
will  presently  descend.  There,  mouldered  into  dust, 
your  flesh  shall  rest  in  hope.  Nor  will  the  season 
of  its  humiliation  last  for  ever.  Christianity,  faith- 
ful to  her  trust,  appears  for  its  redemption.  She  ap- 
proaches, and  stands  before  the  tomb  :  She  stretches 
out  her  sceptre  and  smites  the  sepulchre — Its  moss- 
grown  covering  rends  assunder,  She  cries  to  the 
silent  inhabitants  within  it— Her  energizing  voice 
echoes  along  the  cold,  damp  vaults  of  death,  reno- 
vating skin  and  bones,  and  dust  and  putrefaction. — 
Corruption  puts  on  incorruption,  and  mortal  immor- 
tality. Ker  former  habitation,  thus  refined  and  sub- 
limated by  the  resurrection,  the  exulting  soul  re- 
enters, and  thenceforth  the  measure  of  her  joy  is 
full 


195 

Here  thought  and  language  fail  me.  Inspiratioti 
itself  describes  the  glories  of  futurity  by  declaring 
them  indescribable.  Eye  hath  not  seen,  ear  hath 
not  heard,  neither  hath  it  entered  into  the  heart  of 
man  to  conceive  the  things  which  are  prq)ared 
for  the  people  of  GOD. — What  ideas  are  these ! 
How  must  the  soul  exult  at  the  prospect,  and  swell 
with  the  amazing  conception  ! 

As  Christianity  exhibits  the  most  enrapturing 
motives  to  the  practice  of  virtue,  so  it  urges  the 
most  tremendous  considerations  to  deter  from  vice. 
She  declares,  solemnly  and  irrevocably  declares, 
•'  That  the  wages  of  sin  are  DEATH."  And  to 
enforce  her  declaration,  points  to  the  concluding 
scene  of  nature  :  When,  amidst  a  departing  heaven 
and  a  dissolving  world,  the  Son  of  Man  shall  de- 
scend, with  the  voice  of  the  archangel  and  the 
trump  of  GOD,  to  be  glorified  in  his  saints  and  take 
vengeance  on  his  enemies  I 

Such  is  the  Gospel.. .and  here  I  rest  my  obser- 
vations  At  this  affecting  crisis,  my  beloved  pu- 
pils, THIS  GOSPEL  I  deliver  you.  It  is  the 
most  invaluable  gift ;  and  I  solemnly  adjure  you» 
to  preserve  it  inviolate  for  ever.  To  whatever  part 
of  GOD's  creation  you  may  v/ander,  carry  this 
with  you.  Consult  it  in  prosperity  ;  resort  to  it  in 
trouble  ;  shield  yourselves  with  it  in  danger,  and  rest 
your  fainting  head  on  it  in  death. 

More  efficacious  than  the  ll\bled  "  ring  of  Amurath," 
it  consecrates  its  keeper  ;  preserves  his  life,  and  eter- 
nizes his  memory.     While  you  prize  and  preserve 


196 

Ais  gift,  which  I  now  entrust  to  you,  your  happi-^ 
ness  is  secure.  The  world  may  be  convulsed  around 
you,  the  elements  dissolve,  and  the  heavens  depart, 

still  your  happiness  is  secure.. But  should  you 

€ver,  in  an  hour  of  rashness,  be  tempted  to  cast 
it  from  you  ;  remember,  that  with  it,  you  cast  away 
SALVATION,  'lis  thc  last  hope  of  sinful,  dying 
man.  This  gone... all  is  lost  !  Immortality  is  lost-— 
and  lost  aho  is  the  soul  which  might  otherwise 
have  inherited  and  enjoyed  it.  Under  these  im- 
pressions, go  forth  into  the  world — and  may  GOD 
go  with  you. 

Committing  you  to  his  care,  and  with  a  heart  full 
of  pi-rental  solicitude  for  your  welfare,  I  bid  you  an 
aifectionate  and  final  FAREWELL. 


AN 


ADDRESS. 

DELIVERED    TO    THE 

CANDIDATES 

rOR   THE 

BACCALAUREATE, 

IK 

Union  CoHege, 

AT   THS 

ANNIVERSARY  COMMENCEMENT 

JULY  30th,  1506. 
BY  ELIPHALET  NOTT,  D.  D. 

fRSSIDSNT   OF     UNION   GOLLBCE, 


AN 


ADDRESS. 


Young  Gentlemen, 

jVIoST  alFecting  to  a  parent  is  the  moment 
when  his  children,  commencing  masters  of  their  for- 
tune, leave  their  paternal  home  and  enter  on  the 
world.  The  disasters  which  may  dissipate  their 
property,  the  temptations  which  may  corrupt  their 
virtue,  and  the  maladies  which  may  assail  their  per- 
sons present  themselves  in  clusters  to  his  eye  and 
crowd  upon  his  mind.  Were  it  possible,  gladly 
would  he  accompany,  counsel  and  direct  them  on 
their  way.  But  it  is  not  possible.  <He  can,  there- 
fore, only  vent  his  full  heart  in  benedictions,  and 
looking  up  to  GOD,  commit  the  inexperienced  ad- 
venturers to  His  care. 

Parting  with  a  class  endeared  to  me  by  a  course 
of  the  most  filial  and  affectionate  conduct,  my  situ- 
ation- and  my  feelings  resemble  those  of  a  parent 
parting  with  his  children. 


200 

Dear  pupils  ; — Thus  far  your  instructors  have 
accompanied  and  directed  you  in  your  studies  and 
pursuits.  Bat  the  time  of  separation  has  arrived 
— we  have  reached  the  point  where  our  ways  divide. 
Before  we  part,  indulge  a  word  of  counsel,  the  last 
to  be  communicated  by  him  who  now  addresses 
you. 

The  end  that  each  of  you  has  in  view  is  H  \P- 
PINES3.  To  be  informed,  before  hand,  of  the 
course  that  will  conduct  to  it,  must  be  infinitely  im- 
portant. Because,  should  you  mistake  the  means,- 
with  however  much  ardor  and  constancy  you  may 
pursue  the  end,  your  efforts  will  be  vain  and  your 
future  experience  prove  but  the  sad  disappointment 
of  your  present  hopes.  How  then  may  success  be 
ensured ;  what  manner  of  life  will  conduct  to  hap- 
piness ?  To  answer  this  interrogation,  the  character 
of  maa  must  be  developed,  his  constitution  analyzed, 
his  capacities  of  enjoyment  ascertained  and  the  cor- 
respondencies between  those  ,  capacities  and  their 
respective  objects  developed. 

What  then  is  man  ?  Man  is  a  being  in  whom  are 

mysteriously    combined  a  sensible  and  intellectual 
and  a  moral  nature  :  each  of  which  should  be  kept 

in  view  in  the  present  inquiry,  and  the  comparative 

claims  of  each  should  be  considered  in  making  a 

decision. 

You  have  been  told  by  an  author,  more  esteemed 
for  the  benevolence  of  his  heart  than  the  profound- 
ness of  his  doctrines,  "  that  Jiuman  happiness  dos^- 


201 

not  consist  in  the  pleasui'es  of  sense^  in  whatever 
variety  or  profusioii  they  may  be  enjoyed."  It  is 
true  that  human  happiness  does  not  consist  exclu- 
sively or  principally  in  these.  The  senses,  howe- 
ver, are  a  real  source  of  enjoyment,  nor  would  I  wish 
you  either  to  despise  or  undervalue  them.  The 
God  of  nature  has  not  thought  it  derogatory  to  his 
wisdom^  his  goodness  or  his  sanctity  to  bestow  on 
you  this  class  of  enjoyments,  and  surely  it  cannot 
be  derogatory  to  yours  to  receive  tiiem  at  his 
hand. 

No  inconsiderable  part  <^f  the  happiness  alloted 
to  man  is  conveyed  through  ihe  medium  of  the  sens- 
es— at  least  in  the  present  world,  and,  perhaps,  in 
the  world  to  Come.  For  the  bodies  we  inhabit,  the 
sleep  of  death  being  ended,  will  be  rescued  from, 
the  tomb.  And  it  is  not  easy  to  perceive  why  they 
ishould  be  rescued,  if  their  recovery  is  to  have  no 
influence  on  the  pleasures  and  pains  of  eternity  ;  to 
add  nothing  to  the  amount  of  endless  misery  or 
immortal  blissi 

True  they  deposit  in  the  grave,  (I  speak  of  the 
bodies  of  the  redeemed,)  all  their  present  grossness, 
pollution  and  corruptibility.  For  they  ae  to  be 
raised  from  thence  spiritual  bodies.  But  whether 
this  transformation,  this  refinement,  this  sublima- 
tion, which  the  renovated  body  undergoes,  puts  an 
eternal  end  to  its  influence  on  the  happiness  of  the 
exulting  soui,  which  at  the  resurrection  enters  it,  or 

whether  this  mysterious  change  do  not  rather  exalt 

26 


^02 

its  powers  and  render  them  capable  of  communicat- 
ing a  happiness  equally  more  refined,  more  subli- 
mated, more  transcendant,  is  an  article,  on  whichj 
though  revelation  were  silent,  it  should  seem  that 
reason  could  scarcely  entertain  a  doubt. 

I  know  that  there  are  men,  and  good  men  too, 
who  calumniate  indiscriminately  all  the  pleasures  of 
sense.  I  say  calumniate,  for  the  language  they 
utter  is  neither  the  language  of  reason  nor  revelation. 
The  finger  of  God  is  too  manifest  in  the  sensitive 
part  of  human  nature,  to  admit  a  doubt  concerning 
the  innocence  of  the  bliss  which  springs  from  it. 
Christianity,  instead  of  abjuring,  approbates  the 
pleasures  of  sense.  She  claims  them  as  her  own, 
and  bids  the  possessor  indulge  them,  to  the  glory 
of  the  God  who  gave  them.  And  the  author  of 
Christianity,  that  great  exemplar  of  righteousness 
and  model  of  perfection,  came  eatt?ig  arid  drinking. 
Again  and  again  he  graced  the  festive  board  with 
his  divine  presence  ;  he  delivered  his  celestial  doc- 
trines amid  the  circles  of  social  friendship,  and 
the  first  of  that  splendid  series  of  miracles  which 
signalized  his  life  was  performed  at  a  marriage 
Slipper. 

But  though  the  pleasures  of  sense  constitute  a  part, 
and  an  innocent  part,  it  is  but  a  very  humble  part 
of  human  felicity.  While  they  are  restrained  within 
the  limits  and  conformed  in  all  respects  to  the  ,de- 
corum  of  gospel  morality  they  are  perfectly  ad- 
missible. But  if  this  decorum  be  violated  ;  if  these 
limits  be  transgressed  order  is  subverted  and  guilt 
as  well  as  misery  ensues. 


203 

On  this  article  nature  herself  coincides  with  reli- 
gion,  and  fixes  at  the  same  point  her  sacred  and  un^ 
alterable  boundary.  She  has  stamped  on  the  very 
frame  of  man  her  veto  against  excess ;  and  the  apa- 
thy, the  languor,  the  pains  and  disgusts  consequent 
upon  it,  arc  her  awful  and  monitory  voice,  which 
says  distinctly  to  the  devotee  of  passion,  "  Rash 
mortal  forbear — thou  wast  formed  for  temperance, 
for  chastity  ;  these  be  the  law  of  thy  nature.  Hither- 
to thou  mayest  come,  but  no  further,  and  here  must 
all  thy  appetites  be  stayed." 

Attend  to  the  voice  of  nature — obey  her  mandate. 
Consider,  even  in  the  heat  of  youthful  blood,  con- 
sider thy  frame  ;  "  how  fearfully^  hozu  -wonderfully 
made.''''  How  delicate  its  texture,  how  various? 
how  complicated,  how  frail  its  organs  ;  how  capa- 
ble of  affording  thee  an  exquisite  and  abiding  hap- 
piness, and  at  the  same  time  how  liable,  by  one 
rash  act  of  intemperate  indulgence,  to  be  utterly 
deranged  and  destroj  ed  for  ever. 

And  let  me  forewarn  you,  that  the  region  of  in- 
Yiocent  indulgence  and  guilty  pleasure  border  on 
each  other — a  single  step  only  separates  between 
them.  If  you  do  not  regulate  your  pleasures  by 
principles  fixed  and  settled  ;  if  you  do  not  keep  in 
your  eye  a  boundary  that  you  will  never  paSs  ;  if 
you  do  not  impose  previous  restraints,  but  leave 
your  hearts  to  direct  you  amid  the  glee  of  convivial 
inirth  and  the  blandishments  of  youthful  pleasure, 
it  requires  no  prophetic    skill  to  foresee,  that  im- 


20  i 


pelled  b}^  the  gusts  of  passion  "  conscience  will 
swing  from  its  moorings,"  and  that  your  probity, 
your  virtue,  your  innocence  will  be  irrevocably  ship- 
WTCcked. 

The  intellectual  nature  of  man.  And 
here,  the  design  of  the  creator  is  more  than  inti- 
mated. The  posture  of  man  is  erect,  and  his  coun- 
tenance, irradiated  by  an  expressive  intelligence, 
is  directed  towards  the  heavens.  If  he  possesses 
some  faculties  in  common  with  animals,  he  possesses 
others  distinct  from  theirs.  Faculties,  as  much  supe-< 
rior  to  those  of  sense  as  the  stars  which  decorate  the 
firmament  of  God  are  higher  and  more  resplendent 
than  the  worthless  pebble  that  spark  less  amidst  the 
dust  and  rubbish  on  his  footstool.  Faculties  whicl) 
no  indulgence  surfeits,  no  exercise  impairs,  or  time 
destroys.  Often  sustaining  the  infirmities  of  age  j 
often  beaming  with  intellectual  radiance  through  tlie 
palsied  organs  of  a  dying  body  and  sometimes  even 
gilding  the  evening  of  animal  existence  with  the 
anticipated  splendors  of  immortal  life. 

The  appetites  of  the  body  are  soon  cloyed,  and 
the  richest  banquets  of  sense  disgust.  But  the  ap- 
petites of  the  mind,  if  I  may  speak  so,  are  never 
satisfied.  In  all  the  variety,  in  all  the  plenitude,  in 
all  the  luxury  of  mental  enjoyment,  the  most  fa- 
vored individual  was  never  surfeited,  or  once  heard 
to  say, "  It  is  enough."  The  more  of  these  deli- 
cate, these  pure,  these  sublime,  I  had  almost  said 
holy  pleasures,  an  individual  enjoys,  the  more  he 
h  capable  of  enjoying,  and  the  more  he  is  solicitous 


205: 

to  enjoy.  It  is  the  intellectual  eye  that  is  never  sa* 
tisfied  with  seeing — tlie  intellectual  ear  that  is  never 
satisfied  with  hearing. 

The  povyers  in  question  are  not  more  superior 
to  those  of  sense  than  the  provision  for  them  is  more 
abundant.  Beauty,  grandeur,  novelty — All  the  fine 
arts — -niusic,  painting,  sculpture,  architecture,  gar- 
dening ;  considered  scientifically,  are  so  many  sources 
of  mental  enjoyment.  But  why  do  I  mention  these 
particulars  ?  All  the  region  of  nature  ;  earth  with  its 
varieties  ;  heaven  with  its  sublimities  ;  the  entire  uni- 
verse— All  that  Omnipotence  hath  done,  is  spread 
out  before  the  intellectual  observer.  An  immense, 
an  immeasurable  range — a  field  whose  distant  boun- 
dary departs  from  the  beholder  :  whose  nearest  bor- 
der, after  the  advances  of  six  -thousand  years,  has 
been  but  partially  explored,  and  the  circuit  of  which 
will  be  completed  only  with  eternity, 

Nor  the  visible  creation  alone.  The  intellectual 
world  also  lies  before  him.  To  principalities,  and 
powers  ;  to  thrones,  dominions,  and  all  the  nameless 
orders  which  constitute  the  interminable  hne  of  hea- 
venly excellence,  man  is  introduced.  Orders  for  ever 
advancing  in  wisdom  and  brightening  in  the  splen- 
dors of  intellectual  glory,  at  the  head  of  which  ap- 
pears that  ETERNAL  BEING,  who  alone  chang- 
es not,  because  infinite  perfection  cannot  change. 
The  pleasure  which  springs  from  the  knowledge  and 
contemplation  of  these  objects;  this  universe  of  good; 
is  so  ineffable,  so  transcendent,  that  the  v/retch  who 


206 

does  not  prefer  it  to  the  mere  indulgence  of  sense, 
though  free  of  other  crimes,  CAances  a  depravity  of 
taste  which  merits  eternal  reprobation. 

His  MORAL  NATURE.  Man  was  maclc  to  bc  TC- 
Jigious  ;  to  acknowledge  and  reverence  God  and  to 
be  conformed  in  his  moral  conduct  to  the  law  of 
God.  You  have  only  to  consult  your  hearts  to  be 
convinced  of  this.  The  proof  is  there  inscribed  in 
characters  which  are  indelible. 

When  the  child  first  look  abroad  into  the  works 
of  the  creator,  he  naturally  refers  the  objects 
which  surround  him  to  an  adequate  first  cause, 
and  asks  "  Where  is  God  their  maker."  If  sud- 
den danger  threatens  him,  his  eye  is  directed  to  the 
heavens  for  relief.  If  unexpected  happiness  over, 
takes  him,  his  heart  breaks  forth  in  grateful  acknow- 
led?-emcnts  to  an  unseen  benefactor.  Even  the  un- 
tutored  savage  surveys  the  wildness  of  nature  ; 
the  extended  earth ;  the  distant  heavens,  with  reli- 
gious awe,  and  pa}  s  to  their  creator  an  instinctive 
homa^ce. 

o 

Devotion  is  a  law  of  human  nature,  and  you  can 
with  no  moie  consistency  deny  its  existence,  than 
you  can  deny  the  existence  of  the  laws  by  v.hich 
heaven  and  earth  are  governed.  You  may  as  well  de- 
ny that  there  is  a  principle  in  your  bodies  that  binds 
them  to  tlie  earth,  as  that  there  is  a  principle  in  vour 
soul^  which  elevates  them  to  the  heaveas. 

Nor  is  the  reality  of  the  moral  sense  more  ques- 
tionable.    Self  complacency  springs  from  the  per^ 


207 

Ibrmance  of  duty  ;  shame  and  regret  from  the  com 
mission  of  sin.  Skepticism  may  endeavor  to  per- 
suade you  to  the  contrary,  but  it  never  can.  It  has 
indeed  weakened  the  faidi  and  clouded  the  hopes  of 
thousands,  but  it  never  ^ave  to  a  single  individual 
a  settled,  firm  and  abiding  belief,  that  there  is  no 
God,  no  futurity,  or  that  man  is  not  accountable. 
There  have  been .  serious  and  awful  moments  in  the 
lives  of  the  boldest  champions  of  infidelity  when 
they  have  discovered  sypmtoms  of  dereliction — mo 
ments  when  the  struggles  of  nature  could  not  be  re- 
pressed, and  when  the  voi.e  of  nature  has  been, 
heard  to  break  forth.  The  punishment  of  Cain,  giv- 
en up  to  the  tortures  of  a  guilty  mind,  was  greater 
than  he  could  bear,  and  the  spectre  of  John  the  Bap- 
tist haunted  the  bed  chamber  of  Herod  long  after 
the  tomb  had  become  to  that  martyr  a  bed  of  repose. 
Who  was  it,  think  you,  that  anticipited  the  prophet: 
in  interpreting  the  hand  writing  to  Belshazzar,  and' 
smote  the  sacrilegious  wretch  with  trembling  ?  Why 
did  Gaierious  relent  on  his  death  bed  ?  And  v/hat 
made  Caligula  afraid  when  it  thimdered  ?  It  was 
conscience,  who  startled  by  danger  from  her  slum- 
bers, then  shook  her  terrific  sceptre  and  uttered  her 
monitory  voice. 

Nor  is  it  material  to  enquire  why  man  is  thus 
formed.  It  is  a  fact  that  he  is  so  formed,  nor  is  it 
possible  for  him  to  be  happy  in  a  course  of  conduct 
which  does  violence  ta  his  nature.  From  the  pe- 
nalties of  the  mind  you  can  no  more  escape  than 
from  the  appetites  of  the  body.     You  may  avoid 


208 


tjie  malediction  of  an  earthly  tribunal. — You  may 
avoid,  says  the  irreligionist,  the  malediction  of  God  : 
but  yourselves  ;  the  retribution  of  ju.itice  within 
your  own  bosoms  ;  how  is  this  to  be  avoided  ? 
CONSCIENCE  like  that  DIVINITY  of  which  it  is  a 
symbol,  with  respect  to  you,  is  omnipresent.  Though 
yoii  ascend  to  heaven  ;  though  you  make  your  bed 
in  hell ;  though  you  take  the  wings  of  the  morning 
and  dwell  in  the  uttermost  parts  of  the  earth,  this 
avenger  of  sin  will  accompany  you.  Watching 
Avith  an  eye  from  which  no  darkness  can  conceal  and 
cliastising  with  a  thong  that  no  fortitude  can  endure. 
The  spirit  of  a  man  will  sustain  his  infirmity^  but  a 
wounded  spirit  who  can  hear. 

Such,  briefly,  is  man.  In  providing  for  whose 
happiness  his  entire  constitution  must  be  consulted , 
each  distinct  capacity  of  enjoyment  must  be  furnished 
with  appropriate  objects,  and  a  due  proportion  be. 
tween  them  all,  must  be  preserved. 

Be  this  your  care.  Despise  not  corporeal  plea- 
sures, neither  exalt  them  two  highly.  Hold  them 
subordinate    to   intellectual    enjoyments,  and  these 

subordinate  to  moral.  Your  intellectual  and  mora! 
nature  are  what  ally  you  to  angels  and  assimilate  you 
to  God.  Age  will  presently  rob  you  of  all  the 
delights  of  sense.  But  of  intellectual  and  moral  de. 
lights  neither  age  nor  death  can  rob  you.  To  the 
votary  of  science  and  religion  the  last  cup  of  heaven 
ly  consolation  is  not  poured  out  till  his  eye  is  closing 
on  the  world  and  his  flesh  descending  into  the  gra\T. 
in  hope. 


£09 

A  life  of  virtue  and  happiness,  then,  exactly  co- 
incide. To  practice  the  one,  is  to  secure  the  other^ 
The  God  of  virtue  formed  every  faculty  of  plea- 
sure and  has  made  them  all  subservient  to  duty. 
There  are  those,  1  am  sensible,  who  represent  reli- 
gion shrouded  in  gloom  and  covered  with  scowls  ; 
but  the  attitude,  the  drapery,  the  features  are  un- 
like the  divine  original  and  betray  the  pencil  of  an 
enemy.  There  never  was,  nor  there  never  will  be 
one  source  of  happiness  which  religion  does  not  au- 
thorise. 

Some,  indeed,  speak  of  all  the  pleasures  of  sense 
as  pleasures  of  sin.  But  such  language  is  at  once 
an  outrage  to  common  sense  and  an  indignity  to 
God.  Sin  never  gave  the  faculties  of  sense,  and  let 
not  sin  claim  the  bliss  that  springs  from  them. 
There  is  not  a  being  in  the  universe  that  owes  to 
sin  a  single  enjoyment.  The  immortal  God  is  the 
author  of  them  all.  He  made  you  what  you  are, 
and  if,  in  the  abuse  of  the  faculties  he  has  bestow- 
ed, a  single  delight  remain,  it  is  owing  to  his  clemen- 
cy. 

Which  of  the  faculties  is  it,  1  would  ask,  that 
sin  improves  ?  Is  it  the  eye  ?  Is  it  the  ear  ?  Is  it 
the  palate  ?  Does  sin  add  any  new  faculties  ?  No  ; 
she  only  palsies  the  energies,  perverts  the  use  and 
poisons  the  pleasures  of  those  which  before  existed 
— these  are  her  baneful  and  damning  work.  Un- 
der whose  influence  delights  once   desired,  disgus^ 

the  thoughts  and  pall  upon  the  sej^ses. My  God  ! 

if  you  are  beguiled  by  an  idea  of  the  pleasures  of 

27 


210 

>jin,  look  once  upon  the  emaciated  body,  the  paUid 
countenance,  the  bloated  features  and  the  noseless 
face  of  the  loathsome  and  wornout  sensualist  ! 
Look  again  !  And  can  you  believe  the  place  of 
his  resort  is  the  hc^bitation  of  pleasures  ?  No  :  'tis  the 
TEMPLE  of  pollution,  ol  disease,  of  death — there  sin, 
ACCURSED  SORCERESS,  minglcs  her  cup  and  infuses 
her  poison.  Mark  the  place — avoid  it ;  turn  from  k 
and  flee  away. 

After  this,  will  you  believe  that  virtue  is  your 
enemy  ?  thai  religion  requires  sacrifices  ?  If  so,  in 
the  name  of  God,  what  are  they  ?  I  know  of  none, 
unless  of  disease,  of  pain,  of  iniamy. 

True,  you  may  not  riot  at  the  banquets  of  Bacchus 
but  you  may  participate  in  temperance  at  the  table 
of  convivial  mirth  and  exhilerated  rise  from  thence 
to  give  God  thanks.  You  may  not  steal  at  mid- 
night to  the  infamous  pleasures  of  the  brothel ;  but 
you  may  cherish  at  your  homes  the  refined,  the  hal- 
lowed pleasures  of  connubial  friendship.  You  may 
not,  indeed,  so  much  as  lay  your  head  upon  the  lap  of 
Delilah  ;  but  you  may  live  joyfully  with  the  wjfe 
whom  you  love,  all  the  days  of  your  pilgrimage 
for  it  is  the  portion  which  God  gives  you  under  the 
sun. 

As  we  have  said,  a  life  of  virtue,  and  a  life  of  hap- 
piness coincide.  And  he  who  seeks  the  latter  in  op- 
position  to  the  former  counteracts  the  laws  of  nature, 
contradicts  the  experience  of  ages,  and  to  succeed, 
must  transcend  not  himself  only,  but  his  maker  also. 


211 

and  become  more  potent  than  omnipotencb  him- 
self. The  body  can  subsist  in  health  without  aliment 
as  easily  as  the  soul  without  virtue.  Nor  is  poison 
more  fatal  to  the  body  than  the  venom  of  sin  to  the 
mind.  This  is  a  matter  of  experience  ;  of  fact ;  and 
whoever  asserts  the  contrary,  belies  his  heart  and 
contradicts  the  testimony  of  a  world. 

I  have  detained  you  so  long  on  the  means  of  hap- 
piness that  time  would  fail  me  were  I  to  enter,  in 
detail,  on  the  conduct  of  life.  The  great  princi- 
ples of  morality  and  piety  are  involved  in  the  argu- 
ment we  have  been  pursuing.  An  incidental  thought 
or  two,  suggested  by  the  times  in  which  we  live,  is  all 
that  will  be  attempted. 

Permit  me  then  particularly  to  e7ijoin  you  to  con- 
duct honorably  and  charitably  towards  those  who 
are  opposed  to  you  in  their  opinions.  Diversity  of 
sentiment  is  inevitable  in  a  state  of  things  like  the 
present.  The  dispensation  of  time  is  an  obscure- 
dispensation  and  till  the  light  of  eternity  shall  break 
upon  the  mind,  it  is  not  to  be  expected  that  erring 
mortals  will  see  eye  to  eye.  While  groping  in  this 
world  and  following  the  guidance  of  that  erring  rea- 
son which  is  scarcely  sufficient  to  direct  us  through  itj 
it  must  be  folly  to  suppose  ourselves  always  in  the 
right  and  more  than  folly  to  reprobate  those  whom  we 
consider  in  the  wrong. 

Society,  on  nhich  you  are  about  to  enter,  is  alread} 
divided  into  various  sects  in  religion  and  agitated  by 
f^ontending  parties  in  politics.     Bctwenn  these  hold 


212 

the  balance  with  an  equal  hand,  and  let  merit  and  not 
prejudice  or  interest  turn  the  beam. 

To  judge  correctly,  you  must  take  a  comprehen- 
sive  view  of  the  whole  field  of  controversy.  And 
having  honestly  formed  your  judgment,  give  full 
credit  to  the  merit  of  those  who  differ  from  you,  and 
be  Sparing  of  the  censure  which  you  conceive  to  be 
their  due. 

Beware  of  judging  of  bodies  of  men  in  the  gross, 
as  though  each  individual  were  chargeable  with  the 
vices  of  the  whole.  There  is  no  body  of  men 
among  whom  you  may  not  find  something  to  admire 
and  much  to  blame.  Be  careful  to  separate  therefore 
the  gold  from  the  dross  and  to  distinguish  the  pre- 
cious from  the  vile, 

If  there  be' any  thing  that  can  disgrace  civilized 
society,  it  is  a  spirit  of  indiscriminate  and  wanton 
slander.  A  spirit,  the  vilest  with  which  any  nation 
can  be  curst.  And  yet  this  spirit  exists.  It  exists 
among  us.  It  pervades  the  whole  extent  of  a  coun- 
try, once  proudly  pre-eminent  for  every  social  virtue, 
Jt  insinuates  itself  into  the  cottage  of  the  peasant,  it 
enters,  I  had  rwmost  said  resides,  in  the  mansion  of 
the  great.  It  is  cherished  by  every  party,  it  moves 
in  every  circle.  It  hovers  round  the  sacred  alter  of 
mercy,  it  approaches  the  awful  seat  of  justice.  In 
one  word,  it  surrounds  us  on  every  side,  and  on  eve- 
ry side  it  breathes  forth  its  pcbtilential  vapor,  blast- 
ing talents,  and  virtue,  and  reducing,  like  the  grave> 


213 

whose  pestiferous  influence  it  imitates,  the  great,  and 
the  good,  and  the  ignoble,  and  the  vile,  to  the  same 
humihating  level. 

Permit  me  to  indulge  the  hope,  young  gentle- 
men, that  you  will  never  enlist  under  the  banner  of 
this  foe  to  human  happiness,  nor  prostitute  your  ta- 
lents, or  even  lend  your  names,  to  this  work  of  intel- 
lectual massacre. 

Having  taken  so  much  pains  and  expended  so 
much  treasure  in  preparing  for  future  usefulness, 
will  you  consent  to  become  mere  scavengers  in  socie- 
ty, and  spend  your  lives  in  collecting  and  retailing 
filth.  Remember  that  the  course  of  the  eagle  is 
directed  towards  the  heavens,  and  that  it  is  the  vile 
serpent  that  winds  along  the  fens,  creeps  upon  his 
belly  and  licks  the  dust. 

Whatever  party  you  may  join,  or  in  whatever 
rivalships  you  may  engage,  let  your  warfare  be  that 
of  honorable  policy,  and  not  the  smutt)  contest 
which  succeeds  by  blackenng  private  character. 
Convinced  of  the  sacredness  of  reputation,  never 
permit  yourselves  to  sport  with  the  virtues  or  even 
lightly  to  attack  the  vices  of  men  in  power.  If  they 
pass  a  certain  boundary,  indeed,  sufferance  would  be 
pusillanimity  and  silence  treason.  But  the  pui-Iic 
good,  and  not  private  interest,  or  private  resentment, 
must  fix  that  boundary. 

There  is  an  homage  due  to  the  sanctity  of  office, 
whoever  fills  it  :  an  homage  which  every  man  owes, 


214 

and  which  every  good  man  will  feel  himself  bound  to 
pay,  after  the  sublime  example  of  him,  who  though 
a  Jew  and  residing  at  Jerusalem,  rendered  honor  and 
paid  tribute  to  Caesar  at  Rome. 

I  cannot  sum  up  all  that  I  would  wish  to  say 
to  you  better  than  by  placing  the  entire  character  of 
JESUS  CHRIST  before  you  as  a  PERFECT 
MODEL,  in  the  imitation  of  which,  will  alike 
consist  your  happiness  and  glory.  On  every  im- 
portant question,  in  every  trying  situation,  ask  what 
would  have  been  HIS  opinion,  what  HIS  conduct : 
and  let  the  answer  regulate  your  own. 

Methinks  your  parents,  some  of  whom  I  see  in 
this  assembly,  add  their  sanction  to  the  counsel  I  am 
now  delivering.  Parents  whom  I  cannot  but  com- 
mend particularly  to  your  ingenuousness,  and  from 
their  kindness  and  solicitude,  derive  an  argument 
to  enforce  all  that  I  have  said.  You  will  never  know, 
till  the  bitterness  of  filial  ingratitude  shall  teach  you, 
the  extent  of  the  duty  that  you  owe  them.  On  you 
their  af lections  have  been  placed  :  on  you  their  trea- 
sures expended.  With  what  tenderness  they  min- 
istered to  your  ' .  ants  in  helpless  infancy  ;  with  what 
patience  they  bore  with  your  indiscretions  in  way- 
ward childhood;  and  with  what  solicitude  they 
watched  your  steps  in  erring  youth.  No  care  has 
been  too  severe  ;  no  selfdenials  too  painful  :  no  sa- 
crifices too  great,  which  would  contribute  to  your 
felicity.  To  your  welfare  the  meridian  of  life  has 
been  constantly  devx)ted,  and  even  its  cheerless  even- 
ing is  rendered  supportable  by  the  prospect  of  leav- 


215 

ing  you  the  heirs  of  their  fame  and  of  their  fortune-. 
For  all  this  affection  and  kindness,  the  only  reward 
they  expect  ;    the   only  requital  they    ask  is,  that 
when  you  enter  on  the  world  you  will  act  worthy  of 
yourselves  and  not  dishonor  them. 

And  shall  this  requital  be  denied  them  ?  Will  you 
by  your  follies  disturb  even  the  tranquility  of  age  ; 
rob  declining  life  of  its  few  remaining  pleasures,  and 
snatching  away  from  the  palsied  hand  of  your  aged 
parents  the  last  cup  of  earthly  consolation,  bring 
their  grey  hairs  with  anticipated  sorrow  to  the  gi'ave  i 

It  was  a  noble  spectacle,  amidst  the  flames  tha^ 
were  consuming  Troy,  and  while  the  multitude 
were  intent  only  on  rescuing  their  paltry  treasures, 
to  see  the  dutiful  ijEneas  bearing  on  his  shoulder  the 
venerable  Anchises,  his  aged  father,  to  a  place  of 
safety.  But  ah  !  how  rare  such  examples  of  filial 
piety  !  My  God !  the  blood  freezes  in  the  veins  at 
the  thought  of  the  ingratitude  of  children.  Spi- 
rits of  my  sainted  parents,  could  I  recall  the  hours 
when  it  was  in  my  power  to  honor  you,  how  diffe- 
rent should  be  my  conduct.  Ah  !  were  not  the  dead 
unmindful  of  the  reverence  the  living  pay  them,  I 
would  disturb  the  silence  of  your  tombs  with  night- 
ly orisons,  and  bedew  the  urn  which  contains  your 
ashes  with  perpetual  tears  ! 

It  is  within  your  power  to  prevent  the  bitterness 
ot  such  regrets. — But  I  must  arrest  the  current  of  my 
feelings.  Your  future  usefulness,  your  eternal  salva- 
tion constitute  a  motive  so  vast,  so  solemn  that  were 


216 

I  to  yield  to  its  overwhelming  influence,  I  should 
protract  the  hour  of  separation  and  fill  up  with  coun- 
sel and  admonition,  the  declining  day. 

I  shall  address  you  no  more.  I  shall  meet  with 
you  no  more,  'till  having  past  the  solemnities  of 
death,  I  meet  you  in  eternity.  So  :ipend  the  inter- 
vening period,  I  adjure  you  that  t/iat  meeting  may  be 
joyous  and  the  immortality  which  shall  follow  it 
splended  as  the  grace  of  that  God  is  fi  ee,  to  whom, 
surrendering  my  charge,  I  now  commit  you. — Leav* 
ing  with  you  this  counsel,  I  bid  you  an  affectionate 
and  final  FAREWELL, 


'^ 


